Contributed By: Alex Cigale, Serge Segay
½ glasstick bitchbrew.
1974
Return to table of contents for Issue 4 Summer 2011
Death was passing through the pores of waiting / like fresh messages from the sky
Prima, when you called me, the trees were lit up with Christmas lights in the town where I lived, and the air was cold and smelled sour along the black river. I had happened earlier down the empty streets, my footsteps ringing out—that rapid, low-heeled sound of a woman walking alone. I stopped twice in […]
there is little we cannot accomplish without hearing our voices the music of not hearing voices not music but an atmosphere of existence a bowl of still water with white yellow orchids curled in a gesture of tenderness across its open mouth silence over original silence which invites the hum of phenomena shoring […]
