Daydreaming

SPELL

Bradley Strahan

It' s always far mountains, cities of jade and silver, towers half hidden on a misty ridge that draw the cracked lodestone of desire.

We ' re always leaving for incense islands, places of green water that speak of sun and brown lips tasting of salt and mango.

In crowded stations magnet-eyes burn in stranger ' s faces. Within its cage of bone the wingless moth strains toward a distant fire

The Wayne Literary Review: Escapism