The smell of tamarind flowers is like the smell of tamarind flowers. Empty in the how. Settings: objurgatory parents Not dead the day, dead the night, the black and white dog sleeping on the black road yelped on the approaching vehicle. … [Read more...]
Merlin Flower writes on Indian Review.
Fabricating fury, I crossed across and stood with hands on hips. He nodded with a yellow smile. say, oops. Props to the heart, the insane mind, the insignificant life. Now, I’ve been asking, “Is the cat black or white?” … [Read more...]
the untidy room the paintings gathering dust unfinished manuscripts kindled the conscience the spiders played football and trampoline unwearable clothes slipped to the corners the fetid bathroom slipped to everyone some lizard eggs adorned my medicines hmmm the music came in sterilized. stopgap both patients courtesy of their kidneys sat in a similiar … [Read more...]
Timeline, if it flows so uprising in desperate measure field filled with pretense of now. Lunged grab, the gift of ‘could all’ miss on the missed seconds, ah. Strength of the strong, here with me; chopping the refreshing deep-cut, the double edged haven of minute, creamy connected remote nearness. The price on the boundary line of everness; flying in straight … [Read more...]