Dickinson was “out with lanterns,
looking” for herself.
But nor’easters have come to the South. Wind gusts
have choked me back—in and upon myself. This tasteless
space, this caffeinated anti-place is where I create;
a word-whittled road within the pitch-worn catacombs,
I navigate. Pace.
Entomb regret and unleash the rest—
Day 3 of WYA I’m playing catch up here, so I am posting Day 1-3 back-to-back.
Love and Ink,