cleavermagazine.com
APHORISM by Dylan Weir • Cleaver Magazine
APHORISM by Dylan Weir There but for the grace of a gallon of vodka go I: barleycorn barrel rolling river roulette. A hailstorm hitting the muzzles of voiceless mothers watching sons disappear. A cloud of quiver hovering over every bottle in the aisle that follows me to the checkout counter cliff.