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Tag Archives: Phillip Gregory Spotswood
It’s not that I don’t believe in a god, it’s just that I don’t think there is a word, a vibration, capable of signifying. Imagine, human, that you have been drifting like me all these years outside the orbit of … Continue reading
she leaned out the window—but it’s my birthday—and I could see mascara running down her face in streams blacker than the river Styx. rolled windows to separate worlds. hers from mine; misery from joy; the air between us tittering with … Continue reading
I saw you from across the graveyard. On the other side of the street, I mean— a parallel distance. Between the gray and crumbling mounds I see flashes of red (your running shorts) and the white, vertical lines of your … Continue reading
Even in no-space where I cannot kick off from any one point, or axis, even in no-space my thoughts arc and I can trace their lashings out in bright lines, vague bursts of motion similar to staring at the sun … Continue reading