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Mel is on page 2 of 105

Their roots knobble the water's surface from beneath, twist together into a braided sort of bridge; their branches above tangle and pleach into a vast, vaulting canopy.

Holy shit! I carelessly grabbed this as I ran to catch my train, completely unprepared for such poetry! The twinned consonants, the rhythmic rise and fall of words cradling me in their current. I want to read aloud to the man across from me: listen!

— Oct 04, 2025 10:08PM

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Mel is on page 8 of 105

Esther and Ysabel Hawthorn had voices that ran together like raindrops on a windowpane.

*Sigh* I had to start over and read the first few pages to a friend before bedtime, the rhythm of the words dip and sway like a lullaby.

— Oct 10, 2025 11:00PM