who is narcissus to charge forth, a bull, fear of blood miming his limbs? we refuse to give up our skin for his armor, we who are smaller than the seeds, we who are not dead. we know everything—will contact spirits
Nocturne
O, cricket—o, pretty black bloodcupped beneath scent. You are wholeif eggs, if noise, if the heat of why.Instead, you still, a noble death—a death removed from air, & thusthe seeds, thus the song by sword. Karissa Morton is originally from