Fistfuls of flag to her shoulders
Category: forest-hearted
Jeans
My best kept secret lasted nine months
the long, pale dawn
Should I think myself to inaction, I will be a dead bot by morning.
Flourish
(this is the faith I put in my brutishness)
marigolds
what makes you get up in the morning
punks and poets
a love letter
to make you well
shall we go to the forest?
Oh June
june, for real, come on
an honest sun
three things all the wise fear
Field Guide to Odd, Jungle Things
freakish creatures are naturally unembarrassed of moss.
