modern monarchs, recorded in technicolor think its real, but its cake think its real, but its fake under the guise of god’s fate modern monarchs, makeshift mothers desperation at stake where are all the fathers under the guise of god’s fate, we falter
The storm is over - no, not last week’s nor’easter - midterms. I hope you survived.
New England seems to be one, big, storm-of-the-month club. Campus is 5 minutes from Long Island Sound and I like to go watch the mesmerizing roil of the ocean when a storm’s rolling in.
The choppy hazel undulations, opaque as enamel, seem to coil-up - then suddenly slap the shoreline breakers as if testing their resolve. The wind whipped salt-water patterns, like folds of linen. The wind and salt water mist in your face feels as sharp and violent as glass shards.
The sun occasionally pierces the clouds like a knife strike only to be healed in moments. The whole scene is beautiful, immense and uncontrollable - like eating cake by the ocean. (song reference).
Where i lived, in Georgia was nowhere near the beach