Plentiful There



The emotions

But are—

The antagonists—


Evening fell—and 

Inflamed him—


Undid then— 

Consumed him


Respecting the spring— 

With them

Taking a pitcher—


The sentinels— 


With thirst—




Surnamed the Hater



For what we had—

We shunned—

A wicked man—


And with so little


We did not

Believe him—


The thing in

Itself was a—

Green bright dark bitter


And I have been 

Stripped upon

Entry—we are never on

Expedition—at all—

Nor is this an

Unraveling passage—


I think—

At the table

We are—

Far too philosophical


Joomla SEF URLs by Artio

Buy Lana Turner #9

Issue 9 is HERE!

Order Now

@ltjournal on Twitter