excerpts from Silences, in Edel Garcellano’s Quadratic Silences
III.
But love is impossible in these perilous times—& even if I madly whisper your name like a prayermurder rivals with my eyetooth glareor, true to fawning, float Kabbala’s letterthat would open the cellar of all love’s crimesthe war—on all fronts—is never won.
The trench is heart-deep, smelling of [...]
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