And arrived. The night was infor­mal, the date—escapes us. A bad wind break­ing down the debonair dia­logue: so that you can hear your­self at all—is now epic, now war­like is how crowds inhale: meters of syn­chro­nized Spi­der Lilies lus­ciously unfold­ing. In time will be screams. Under skies the color of dancer. Mar­tyred Pen­dant branches, casting […]