• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 05


All the time reaching
no matter how dense the fog
the bone that is shadow can
find a way through.

You might call it a curtain,
a partition, a way into
another world,
but the bone that is shadow
is the hand.

The elongated fingers
will touch your neck
at some point in your lifetime
but will you know it's me
poking in, trying to
scratch your sweet mind.

Will you hear shadowbone
on skin, the roughness of
another conscience,
a break through of notions,
male female, androgynous.