James Ganas

thuswise dire Terran philippy You were how i want to be, last summer— when it was four days from July and you sat freezing. The sun now (some time later) is dappling on your back through shading swaths of leaf. The screaming of your coral dress recalls the clamor of a day parade. Too far now from May hail to see you as I did then. But be that as it may, hell the freeze has just begun.         alling his eyes made the grass green. the color of his iris released from the body, transmutated, then“James Ganas”

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