Lyack Glenwalker:
we are climates on which the threat of a storm that occurs elsewhere hovers
Lyack Glenwalker:
This January
Lyack Glenwalker:
The silence, the light, the mute lust of the grass
Lyack Glenwalker:
S o p h i e
Lyack Glenwalker:
T e m p u r a
Lyack Glenwalker:
U n t i t l e d
Lyack Glenwalker:
You look lonely, i can fix that...
Lyack Glenwalker:
Closer
Lyack Glenwalker:
Our ghosts
Lyack Glenwalker:
The care of the gaze
Lyack Glenwalker:
Poetry is a pile of snow in a world with salt in its hand
Lyack Glenwalker:
.: Morir Vivir :.
Lyack Glenwalker:
A r t s
Lyack Glenwalker:
R e l a x
Lyack Glenwalker:
Ty!
Lyack Glenwalker:
Boat night, of music, of stars
Lyack Glenwalker:
Do you know
