Victor M. Depta

Martin, Tennessee 1989 This little self this tiny me and the white moon eye-hurt between the pines it is that bright eerie on the eyelids as a howl as an angel and I, that sufferance is a sweet cry yelping thinner than the penned hounds, the train wh [...]

October 1989 Long distance as if who cares how many miles but the crackling, the hissing the not there it's the rain every time it rains and who are we, extraterrestrial as if the clouds the always white as if the earth, most watery could not speak b [...]