Here march the eaters of earth, the swallowers of rain.
He had found his monsters, and now was the time to leave them behind.
Everybody, he mused had everything worked out. Except me
We do still have coffee, though. That’s one positive.
There is no UFO and also there is no alien, at least not in common mind nor reference.
I always wanted to make aliens that looked like ’60s aliens.
we roar along the rust belts——the great red spot——the polar vortex——the caress of solar flares——ruffle the molten methane and ammonia oceans of me——the storm-riven non-surface of me and mine——that which you call skin——a threadbare term...