After the moon sinks,
a penny in a black fountain,
the sun wastes no time
with its scorching exposure.
I move quietly in the day,
collecting my howls where they fell
like wishes through the night.
a literary journal published by the Black Earth Institute dedicated to re-forging the links between art and spirit, earth and society
a penny in a black fountain,
the sun wastes no time
with its scorching exposure.
I move quietly in the day,
collecting my howls where they fell
like wishes through the night.
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