Cassandra Moss
“Swain’s Lane” and “Joyride”
Some time ago I was like an open palm held out for a reading,
all its lines criss-crossing
and indicating one determined future or another.
I only remember my waking dreams from then,
as if sleep was too close to death
to access the underlayers of my mind
all its lines criss-crossing
and indicating one determined future or another.
I only remember my waking dreams from then,
as if sleep was too close to death
to access the underlayers of my mind