Jordaan Mason
Jordaan Mason
Jordaan Mason
Jordaan Mason
Jordaan Mason
Jordaan Mason
Jordaan Mason
Jordaan Mason
Jordaan Mason
Jordaan Mason
If snow is flesh in gardens:
We don't have mouths to talk about it
Between avalanches:
We can find our language
Between fire blankets:
We can speak our language
But if snow is like skin then it pulls away so easy
Dragged from the body
What if all stripped wood is branches
And all frozen lakes are water?
Then our bodies will be avalanches