on a line from Amy Leach’s “Things That Are” I have never made a flower, never have I pressed myself through dirt, me as
periodically I seek you out online someone I don’t want to know about hope to find you- tubes or real estate listings hope you’re
Independence, dependence. So much depends…. Upon the light at sunrise, stars at sunset, wind in the shrubbery, roses in neglected gardens, upon the ubiquitous
Allow me the moment when a bird trembles on my palm, when I eat bread hot from the oven or lick the honey of