It forced itself to take that last step onto the ferry. Every step further from land felt like falling. Through space, through time, through every place it had ever been.
thousands of years of floating in a vacuum
Poetry subs are closing for the month of March and will reopen in April. This is ordinary.
Promise me story / still fleet-footed and blazing, story where I
become more / than steam. And pretend that I never / prayed
to the veins / of a trembling city, never saw god / written in neon lights.