Tag Archives: DeMisty D. Bellinger

I won’t use any of the clichés to describe his hands, his fingers— such as sculpted or tapered or birdlike—but I will say that they looked capable of tearing hard fruit in half, of splitting bread for a crowd, I … Continue reading →

1: June There are two bites above my knee and they itch like all fuck. I know little beads of sweat now dot my nose like translucent freckles. I watch your skin bronzing in the sun. Your teeth—even the near … Continue reading →

I know enough to admire the beauty of:             uneven spaces on a page; punctuation creating patterns, creating ways, creating             paths; repeated words, implied sighs, colors contrasting on screen, on printed page,             between the white of the eye and the rest … Continue reading →