So here’s how these things go: A boy is born in an unnamed town, and his mother soon realizes he coughs dead light. It’s wearing me out, she says, these stars staining the carpet, the plasma and hydrogen dripping down his bib.
A JOURNAL OF ART + LITERATURE
So here’s how these things go: A boy is born in an unnamed town, and his mother soon realizes he coughs dead light. It’s wearing me out, she says, these stars staining the carpet, the plasma and hydrogen dripping down his bib.