With a pulse of cello and scent of cognac,a lingering want as the moon drags tides, like a metronome with fingers.Then—silence—the breath before the fall, like a piccolo whispering a symphony,with a single note.Exhaling the taste of yesterday's tobacco,...

A slow drift afloat, of sapphire notes, of winsome blues settling in the air holding on to deep tides, endless deep,like a salt-licked pulse.Pouring itself into a glass of dusklike spilled memories through honey, slipping between my fingers, a...