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Splendor in a Dark Year by Jon Hoel

  • mclaspires
  • Feb 26, 2018
  • 1 min read

He who wants honey must abide the bees. But, the bees are going— Our glazed eyes avert.


I am the speakeasy, I will tremble against the amaranthine snows forever. My brittle bones crumble, I crumble.


You will encounter one million different people in your whole life. As part of a world more meaningful.


You read a gently worn book on dog fighting and the dogs never win. This, this is our history. Intersectional, but indifferent.

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