To think in song again... the urge flirts and wanes, waits for an albatross, a Loch, love, leave me in pursuit of language. Yes, I’ve tried crossing my fingers. There’s chanting. There’s stillness. I’m receptive to sunlight. If if I could just photosynthesize, if
Songbird
Songbird
Songbird
To think in song again... the urge flirts and wanes, waits for an albatross, a Loch, love, leave me in pursuit of language. Yes, I’ve tried crossing my fingers. There’s chanting. There’s stillness. I’m receptive to sunlight. If if I could just photosynthesize, if