Fiction
Lascaux is Burning
The first art Was not art, Rather, a color line shot through the dark, No more expression Than a plea for explanation. The grandest monuments
Edit
Can’t you let the film spool unseen on the stained floor? Its frames forever static as my fingers resplice our hands. Let my battalions of
Persistence, Memory, Time
Have you ever met someone who makes you question everything you’ve ever wanted?
When You Grow Up
I’d rather be a collapsed flower drenched in rainwater; succumbed to the well where wishes weld winning whims. though not alone as the barren heart
Marketplace
The listing requires dimensions, and so there is the inevitable internal struggle. Laziness. Disorganization… Cannot find the measuring tape. Can she guess its proper size?
At the Beach
It was difficult getting everything together but she wanted to do it for Yacov. The jaundice had left her weak, drained, and the enervating