Reading The Blue Clerk, 177

A ritual unfolds us.

Reading The Blue Clerk, 176

So much depends on the light.

Reading The Blue Clerk, 175

A house settles into its bones, and mine.

Reading The Blue Clerk, 174

Escape can feel like sweetness.

Reading The Blue Clerk, 173

Laughs at the distortion of ineloquence.

Reading The Blue Clerk, 172

Yes

Reading The Blue Clerk, 171

The bruise of memory.

Reading The Blue Clerk, 170

The hymns of memory we call flowers.

Reading The Blue Clerk, 169

the gods waiting to be surprised

Reading The Blue Clerk, 168

And sweetness. The memory of it.