They told you falsehoods, that dust begot bone begot I, whose womb begot sin, begot flesh begot flesh begot flesh. But I was born from...

Azure smeared blush. Morass garden. Confusion. Foraging. Heaviness. the question wades against her lips awaiting the tongue’s surrender....

The First Visit: Bare-handed and bare-armed, the thorns tore at my skin as I tried to negotiate an uprooting. The shrub was not prepared...