No matter your age
there's still the same
number of hours in the day
The rural pearl that unfurled and curled was hurled
over the hill where my freewill
turned to clover
and I rolled
and rolled.
Featured Post
No More Masters
The bones are really breaking inside of me and I have no one left to conceive of no imagination to dry up no silence to feign I have no fore...
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Soaking up the rain and whipping spit of the waves, as he stood next to the ocean of my memory, a fire hydrant in a red windbreaker, glaring...
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"Well...that was dramatic." I didn't know what he meant until I saw the ink spilled everywhere and the moths in her hair like ...