Shuddering, I believe I hear Orion’s flaming key. I’ll make perfect words for this moment, like varnished, heart-shaped leaves under the unwrinkling angels who reveal blurring colors and live over the forests of my belief. This is such a mystery we have in our hands, furious, unspeaking butterfly music, something made of wood in the shadows of music. Every mind is as a prism to her burning lace. She is the blue Druid. One hundred warm years are many rainstorms to endure. So it is with this fantastic blood of sonatas, the fantastic blood of sonatas dangling red roots.

This content is for Basic Member, Friends of Burningword 3-Day Pass, Friends of Burningword 3-Month Subscription, and Friends of Burningword Annual Subscription members.
Log In Register
Listed at Duotrope
Listed with Poets & Writers
CLMP Member
List with Art Deadline
Follow us on MagCloud
%d bloggers like this: