only when poised at the edge of dimension, awaiting a safe day for first contact, they see – a hideous hardcore refusing to welcome children in boats...
hog plum and lobster as the sun gears itself up for another day, young lives teeter toward ending bedrooms lit by greedy screens desperation, silent...
stars over kennet star lit stones wrap around me and i am held rapt for a pitch-black procession the memory of daylight sleeping beneath frosted ice...