Poet Laundry

  The ship with orange sails stands out among the rest.   Perhaps whoever chose them wanted them to match their destination—   ...

  The last emerald summer popped hot in the pan— buttery, like sweet corn and tomatoes,   like the last sultry twilight I spent ...

  The Poet’s Garden is lit with black fire, melancholy, and a brushstroke break turning lover’s faces to ash.   Just ask le fou ...