The Cage
I. Bat-handed, two-pronged digits, your fingers are the eyes inside the wood. As much Eloi as Morlock. At the sphinx’s paw, think of the bright forest in the back of my skull: echo of an edible chamber gate; surgical probe for leisurely feeding, larvae-rich. Lemur me; murmur eel. Ease me up, little one. Sing Liliata rutilantium to Eve’s brood, to… Read more →