Emma Stout Cup your ears to listen to the blackish blue –the in, outthe echoing crack of knuckles Do three whole rotations beneath the surface,under the wavering whitebecause you can’t seem to grasp Her cordbecause the sun circles as you spin in tandem with this Earth It’s nearly time, but you don’t know that, so you ask to the blackish blue:If the only walls to … Continue reading Breaching