Andreiomatic Andrei

I stare at the eye of the midnight flame
till it dawns as the rising sun;
watch wax drip tiers of molten waves
with flow of noonday tides.

In snuffed wick’s trailing tendrils,
I drift lengths of advancing frontiers
outlines of far lands sleeping
under tender lids of night

pondering the weight of times unseen
that cross this desert existence,
dismantling hazy borders between
together and apart.

- Kate Burnside

Tastes like waffles.

Some days are clouded like dazzled flying girafes.

Are we to venture out into space?

Sometimes my head turns into a balloon and flies away.