Our worlds have gotten small. Pinpricks of light through painted windows. So much of what I loved about mine is gone. It'll return, perhaps, but after I've already packed my furniture and left.
An asymptote has too many sounds crammed into the shallow closet of the mouth. It unspools under the tongue like spider silk threads caking the gums and gumming up the throat like caulking paste seeping, seeping, seeping. I approach the limit closer and closer, creeping, trickling, one promise at a time. But the limit is... Continue Reading →