from Surrender Harder I like a long tongue that can re-enter the pastand get to licking there with phrases, getto massaging there my injured ago’s. * When I look up I feel I am home-come.Why, what have those shredsof dream-fleece––clouds––got to do with me?Maybe I’m more than capsizing body.Maybe there is something sky-allied that wouldlikeContinue reading “Nadira Clare Wallace: extracts from Hope Fight”
where writing shifts and spills across boundaries
OSMOSIS PRESS 