Here's another humdinger:
"The altitude asks questions we won’t answer, even when the wind
assists as an interrogator; loving you here is a clandestine activity.
We refuse to become reels of film waiting to start."
Isn't that the kind of passage that sends you cartwheeling toward your chosen writing interface with hope in your heart and champagne bubbles exploding in your nostrils?
Over yonder @ Spork Press.
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