scraps

once this was an attic.

i promised my creations i’d publish them.

what this once was was a fulfillment of a promise to my babies.

then, a tragedy led to the collapse of that paradiso. but the memory of what this once was is ingrained, so. the scraps of the boxes salvaged from the attic this once was are present in the candidacy of attendance. check marks:

 

balak

poem

my babies will get their share of virtual dusts and sunlight.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: