Satin Silences in Kyoto
By 9 AM, I am a fortress of charcoal wool and sharp
Kyoto Nights
The Scent of Summer Starlight
I had spent three years chasing deadlines in a glass tower where
The Cobalt Resonance of Your Touch
My heart had become a series of rigid, grey rectangles—sharp edges
The Analog Ghost in a Digital Shell
They think they’ve mapped me. My IP is static, my cookies
The Indigo Hour Between Two Heartbeats
I walk through this corridor of light and shadow, my geta clicking
