god’s moth

haiku-ish attitude – me watching a white moth bumping its head against an old mattress, testing the resistance of the now worn-out and arguably colored satin to the heaviness of its evanescence – aren’t we, the spores of god (whatever “god” may mean for some and all of us), doing the same thing, bumping our … Continue reading

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moon

© Liliana Negoi

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fume

[…] in my palm drunken with stains of sunrise a moth searches for the path of yesterday while rays vibrate under the voice of a blackbird, like a violin string swooshing ‘neath a fidlestick sounds glide, blunt and sharp, and light shivers in search for a fulcrum within them – the moth is doomed to … Continue reading

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