Jack Conte Starlight
So you thought you had your mind glassed up in a jar?
Clear and cut and dry but dipped a bit in tar. And you’re
hoping for a troll to rob you of your gold and burn your
lovely home and keep you from the starlight. Current in
your hands and a trembling in your back; doubt your
hopeful can, and crystallize to lack. And the sun will
shine at the edge of time, but not until you’re done
