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Auspices of Transience<\/strong><\/p>\n He is a refugee from the city of hash and twigs. He rubs coconut oil into callus each time he rests. She drifts past buoyed by a salted breeze. In leafy green shadow his weary inertia recedes. <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Following a transient childhood, Elosham Vog<\/strong> came of age as a stranger in the surreal spaces of the American midwest and west coast. He now lives and writes in Norwich. His work is forthcoming in Lighthouse.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Auspices of Transience He is a refugee from the city of hash and twigs. The suitcase he carries is half-empty. She was grown in a glasshouse fueled by brimstone and burnt words. The ancient heat warms her back from afar. He rubs coconut oil into callus each time he rests. His scarred […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5629","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5629","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5629"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5629\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5632,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5629\/revisions\/5632"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5629"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5629"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5629"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nThe suitcase he carries is half-empty.
\nShe was grown in a glasshouse fueled by brimstone and burnt words.
\nThe ancient heat warms her back from afar.<\/p>\n
\nHis scarred soles show routes traced through ash and sand.
\nHis path leads to the last fringe of trees to circle the earth.<\/p>\n
\nHer limbs trail dry tendrils of root that cry hymns to the sky.
\nHer vertebrae bear faded anchors in blue.<\/p>\n
\nHer joints are pomegranate seeds popping.
\nTime stops\u00a0\u00a0 as eyes meet under the watchful gaze of the birds.<\/p>\n