My head gets shoved deep into the machine. I come home to a letter from the servants demanding the very last whisper you left in my ear; they want to take anything I don’t want them to. Some August leaves still on the table right next to the bills. Those leaves were once open, gasping,… [Read More]
Nate Pritts
It Was Just Thinking
They each were a glass breaking. The size of two hummingbirds. My feelings about the morning. I was looking at the light & getting it confused with some other light. I knew the answer to every question was written down somewhere, folded away so that I could see only that it was there. I have… [Read More]