On a bus in a deep Asian jungle, Full of rain and wet, I thought of a time when I Held my memories in my hand, Squeezing them and squeezing them… So alive. I thought of a box with a lid Cracked open, a gap where we see Time walked in parks, hands held in […]
About Matthew Henningsen
I like to think of Harlow in Her smiling way. That sweetness That can bear such slight. It Rises up red From a bed Of water in, the jungle. While Gable laughs and laughs. He laughs and laughs. Then we see Lombard with naked Feet. Feet that rub up feet. Below a kitchen table in […]
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