3 Review(s)

If quill were a gnomon, the sol traced its shadow on us who are cast by thought's passage across an enfleshed light-source. The imagery contained of this collection attempts sonically to slow apparent-time, other pages speeding it, and visually entraps it. Bone's lyrical humor hides ofttimes a depth reached at, maybe, a repeated singing--but this isn't fact, given how our bridging you and One is really a veiling we measure to unveil and hopefully edit us from the scene.