flashlights in hand poetry we passed through the sodden door falling off its hinges in the dead of night to discover reels of film the images indecipherable. Share this: Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Share on Mastodon (Opens in new window) Mastodon Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Share on X (Opens in new window) X Like Loading...
you had me at sodden door
ah admit it, i had you many years ago.