A vain venue for solipsistic sophists, verbal voyeurs, lubricious logorrheics, and serial-comma lovers.
Friday, May 27, 2016
the small hours
The small hours, the ones prone to silence or scream. The small hours with no voice or vision. The hours invisible. How small beyond measure. The small hours incalculable. What follows the small? Smaller? Minutes? The small hours beyond time zones. The glaciers. Waterfalls. Sand dunes. The eternal hum of the refrigerator. The breeze swaying the curtain.