by Ankh Spice Tangaroa’s belly flattens, swellsinto the bright blade. Light honed by a creeping moonis the sharpest of all light, slipped glass ruptures him – quickening mercurybeads through cold ink. At his edges, silvered waves break, and breakagain – this is the nature of waves – but to shush, shush yourself calm, knowingthe shattering will go on until even Read More