This is how the night will play out:
No waterlimos, no gulls to descend
On peanut bags, no bag boater's shout.
No reason to shout.
The vine won't wither when you
Decide a kiss goes afoul
Of me.
The grape won't taste of poison
The gland won't spout.
What nature, my tongue
And these lines
Should profit
Content to go elsewhere,
Diverge, disambiguate, reroute
Will decelerate.
As if by suggestion of numbers
A pudgy zero will think, then mouth
Maybe there:
Navigate a tipping bow by it, then
Lose it in the heaving salts, eye
craning, wisdom and its bounding amount,
Hereabouts.
28 Years Later & M3gan 2.0
-
Director Danny Boyle and writer/director Alex Garland have collaborated
once again to deliver 28 YEARS LATER a sequel to 2002’s 28 DAYS LATER and
its 200...
1 week ago
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