W.Fossett

Poet / Cynic / Photographer

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Yin - New Orleans, Louisiana pt.2

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In Flight.

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Yin - New Orleans, Luisiana

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Notebooks

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Coffin Cellar. We wear masks and cry out into a deaf page with blind ink because not a soul knows our true face. Who are you, really? - wf.

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Present - wf.

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I'm conceptually relevant, ironically. But it's pathologically catastrophically, platonic. the Adam bomb on the Eve of our flamboyantly destructive cartography. - wf.

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Where I dream and spill all over the pages of my notebook. Surrounded by scents of lust, old books, and our mutual taste for self-imposed torture and the exposure of our bones.

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Weird VI. I prefer to hug in length. with every bit of strength I have. with my heart on my sleeve you will never get closer to me than the moments before you leave. - wf.