OC*EA.N’ South HE*AV.EN’ West

1 a.m. The moon is a lemon smile masqueraded by wine-colored cumulus clouds. I’m trying to make something of the wind. I ease the sails. I harden them. I ease them. Sometimes when I ease the main, I can hear it exhale, as if it’s been holding it’s breath, more than a century, for the...

This post is for members only.