F U L L ♪

Till the earth delves into a gray sweeter than a drown, tilth the earth despite the claws of rot. The burning house, the brushstrokes of smoke tilting the landscape into TV static: the disjointed noise of serenity. The drowning engulfing the anodyne sea-- the sea: our velvet womb; violets, entangled, in our eye sockets.

@mrgryphon - The thrill, the fear, the hope, oil on paper, 2021

"strange isn’t it, my nearly perfect one, how passionate we once were, almost, I would say, like bread and cheese which cannot bear to part and thus go down the dark throat together. And now it seems we have nothing other than opposite ends of the table. O naked, O tragic ironic silence, to see us separate as if centuries had risen like mountains between us. — William Kistler, from 'Poem in the Mind of a Letter',

Mary Lambert