in parentheses

Tag: Wind

  • Cast this air into the night…by G. Mramor

    Cast this air into the night…by G. Mramor

      Cast this air into the night. Author these words for the wind. Dream the dying dream. Fore there is no war made with wind. There is only this.   Red knuckles biting with hoar. Thumbs dicking raw scabs. Pink hands peeling from the web. Fore the rose light soars this dreamflight. But no war…

  • I who make with water…by G. Mramor

    With my hands I cut the valley and raise up the earth beyond the clouds. A whisper and the flues meet icy black at the falls. A shout and the land spreads. A cry and the ocean snaps wave rove upon wave. My heavy cough makes sharp the cliffs and the smoke from my lips…