Annapolis

Drained upside down, a heart becomes a leaf; drunk sideways, a smile. When you chisel into a block of ice, a spring of blood can ensue, most likely your own. The fear knotted hard against a blade, the blade of uncertainty of being received — that will never withstand metal, but its frost will further contraction and drive what is kind in that edge deeper into itself. Let the sun come out, man. Let the sun begin in you. There are hills whose shape attends this. There are hands to deliver the light to the sky.