Feathered wings, curl around me. Cradle my cotton skin  So tightly in your bassinet, That no harm will ever come to me; Not again. Feed...

Myopic and old, These words arrive  Through a purple mist. Bending together In blue and red waves — Their pixelated motorcade Dances...

Mouths open to speak But eyes say more than words can Learning how they talk Much needed whispers Gingerly float through the air Smiles...