after Judith Crispin’s Self-Diptych There are bees at her mouth and birds at her eye – flying. The dust, so scattered as froth on a wave, passing. Her pores open to the breath’s quotation: address the horizon; look to the moon. Her mind, open.
after Judith Crispin’s Self-Diptych There are bees at her mouth and birds at her eye – flying. The dust, so scattered as froth on a wave, passing. Her pores open to the breath’s quotation: address the horizon; look to the moon. Her mind, open.