Lock and Dam 13

How vague those summer days seem ...

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Shikaakwa

I want to claim this city, fold it into my marrow and grow it all over again, its artificial stars heaving raw electricity like Tesla hungover, nurture its naked precipices snapping at the night; I will render it precious, the White City, immortal as sin. Adoptive mother, tucking in a million beds: all its junkies … Continue reading Shikaakwa