2022-12-03

southern wind

I keep the apartment dark all day. Shadows and a blizzard of dust. Sunlight sometimes beams from yellowed pages of paperback. The text is so bold, you can hear it. Printed thoughts of aliens or gods. I miss the way out of here, the other side of now. Ghosts of William Faulkner and Flannery O'Connor flickering in a grey, southern wind.