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Atticus Abbey wrote a new post
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Read MoreInsomnia, thou punctual ghast,clicking thy bones in time so fast—how dost thou pace my hollow halls,counting each drop, the midnight calls?A Folgers' Pentecostal hymn,a blackened brew—so thick, so grim—each splash a psalm, each steam a sigh,a bitter Host, I...
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Thank you, Sam..
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Atticus Abbey and
chantepleure are now friends
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Atticus Abbey wrote a new post
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Read MoreTime stutters and stalls. Here, the climate is not a season of pale lichens and emerald moss. They do not drop their leaves in fear of the coming frost; they wear their persistence like armor, a jagged skyline of...
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Read MoreForged in the crucible of a spirit come alive, it does not roar in a fireplace of timber and ash.Wear it in your chest, a silent, blazing heart, it is the quiet, fierce burn in the marrow.A shield of...
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I like this. The Blue flame.
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Thank you, Fia.
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Read MoreIf a body kiss a body, coming through the rye from the hollow where the heart should be—a hymn of skin and salt, a breath unmoored, a mouth tracing the curve of a shoulder like a ghost learning its...
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This is a fine homage to one of my favorite writers. Poe was the first one that I really latched onto and was affected by his style. Clearly, the illustration goes with “A Telltale Heart”.