Weeds grow where they want to; not where they're told to grow...
erbacce-press
Michael McAloran
Amber-
Corpse infinite silence
A jaw broken
Silt of my outreaching fingers
In the depths of the
Swell
For nothing
Shadow my grace
Embracing my jagged bones
Ashen whip dragging its teeth throughout
My amber
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Also by McAloran
#1-
Break unto…see the fathom…
Locked eye…open casket of…severed wings…
Swarm of rat…toothen blood…fleshed regalia…
Hollow pulse…lapse of sunlight…all hands silent…
Night of dead haste…forest of endless…absence tasted…
Shiv of all dreaming…ruptured skin…foreign abandon…
Here or there…broken silence…nothingness…
Here or what may never…lapse of death…ice…winds…
Here a nothing there a nothing… speech without sound…
Evacuated pulse…dreaming…still(ness)…
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To purchase this book click on the cover opposite or if you use PayPal add it to your orange shopping cart.
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