Telem
@telem.alogical.space
The face
not mine – but one I will wear
to kiss all my lovers good-night:
the way I seal my father’s lips
with my own & begin
the faithful work of drowning.
not mine – but one I will wear
to kiss all my lovers good-night:
the way I seal my father’s lips
with my own & begin
the faithful work of drowning.
I can tell you what I see, old friend. We are by what smells like the sea, albeit I can see across the water and there lie mountains. It is dawn, I think. And, dear Argos, here I must falter. Because what I see is, buildings, I guess. But not like any I’ve seen in Ithaca nor in my travels.
April 19, 2025 at 2:47 PM
I can tell you what I see, old friend. We are by what smells like the sea, albeit I can see across the water and there lie mountains. It is dawn, I think. And, dear Argos, here I must falter. Because what I see is, buildings, I guess. But not like any I’ve seen in Ithaca nor in my travels.