how do women walk
between me and my sister
open end
dry tears
coming round again
things not worth keeping
At the round earth's imagin'd corners, blow Your trumpets, Angells, and arise, arise From death, you numberlesse infinities Of soules, and to your scattered bodies goe john donne - holy sonnets
still alive
weeping woman
give me a call
blue moon
imagined corners
below the surface