The city was New York.
The time was 5:43 am.
One could not see the sun.
The season was spring.
The temperature was 45°F.
It was not raining.
The time was 5:43 am.
One could not see the sun.
The season was spring.
The temperature was 45°F.
It was not raining.
Poem
Ana Božičević
The Great Field hadn’t talked to anyone in 50 years, and then it spoke
to Lianne. Everyone was astonished.
Sadness in the kingdom of heaven.
You’re the Holy Ghost in the church
Of abandonment that is conceptualism.
Hope has the secret sauce.