Reliquary If only the sky could contain you, I would sleep. Instead I rise and limp through the fog to my shack. Sip coffee, strum E-minor, arrange words. Listen. The earth, too, considers you limitless. Disassembling the chord note by note, I reminisce. How the indistinct commits its magic. Indirection, implication. Camouflage. The missing. […]

via Reliquary — O at the Edges

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