Parts of Zero by Fin Sorrel
I am breastfeeding angels. I hear machines, a knife can be buried in an orchard. I smell dogs coming around the corner. Someone’s lighting candles in the clouds. Oh, cartoons, overpass, worms drip from pears out of the garbage. I am breastfeeding angels. Coy fish swim around my legs when I wake. I drink water from five separate rooms in the abandoned house. I wear a lizard costume to school and carry a lantern of frogs, not flames. I require happiness to breathe my last breath, but this is the culture of hinges, where the tree chops down the maps, a broken chandelier re-assembles at the center of a mansion. I watch myself from a child, raking leaves behind the abandoned house. I am seeing apparitions and fish at night when I walk the streets.
Fin Sorrel is the editor for [a] neon garden (www.Infii2.Weebly.com) His work appears at Queen mobs teahouse and in the modern anthology of surrealism. His forthcoming book TRANSVERSAL is an avant garde novel
digital art by Dale Wisely