Did you hear the wind, howling like a wounded tiger last night? It sent me in my half sleep deeper snuggled into my blankets, cowering in only a half...
My name is Patch. I like to latch onto trees, or your leg if I please. Sometimes I fling, full-bodied, to cling on a lamp post like a white ghost at...
I am seashell curling infinitely inward upon myself, mother of pearl sheen beneath frosting gleam of a heartless Perigee moon. And I hum in wretched...