Whose marrow now, the bone-white birch, still remembers the weight of wings that were never meant to keep ghosts, only borrow them like library books, overdue. Come dawn, the river spits out all our drowned names, in perfect alphabetical order,...

"Oh dash it all!" cried he, in tones most desolate. "Pray tell me, chaps—have you observed, my toddy’s wayward fate?""...before the friar's gateit vanished, quite without a trace, like empire’s fading gleam, one sip too short of paradise—""But now it’s...

your garden groomed, made me blushit blossom for you aloneon the air you pollinate my vulerabilityyour lavendar linger over my lipskiss the sky I am the dappled sunlight of dayaroused by your shadowa God, I have never beheld youshimmering...

Sip, mon amour, her emerald lips whisper,taste the moon dissolved in my tongue.The glass tilts—a slow, seductive shiver,as absinthe drips, thick and young.Ah, cette fee... she coils ‘round my spine,her breath—licorice, fire, and rue.The spoon’s silver teeth leave sugar...