Who got to tell us how things are or should be?
Running Up that Hill Greetings, friends. My intention with this blog space has always been for meanderings and […]
“The rot of the Mesozoic
keeps our lights alive”
On stolen soil,
there is
no honor.
There is nothing
natural
about your
complexion.
“Put Your Money On ME”
I capsize every night, anchorless and gasping . . .
Why must I
always ache
for forbidden fruit?
The store is closed when I
pass by,
from the window
I imagine better homes.
Rethink the routine.