• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 01


Spark, fly, sparksfly
in directions I have always remembered
but never known. There is a broken island
at the corner of my eye,
melting, mending, molding itself
into (w)holes, halves, wholehalves.
These are deserted waters.
To what end will you trust the sailor?
The fallacy is not in your navigator;
it is in navigation itself.