The summer I stayed in a rented apartment by the beach in a small town just a 40 minute drive away, you asked…
Summer’s end,
The Mórrígan’s song,
It’s the perfect day for a barbecue. The denim is frayed, the skies are blue. The mustaches are long, mullets flowing…
Sun rides high,
Seeding Earth
Raindrops claspethereal webbed scaffolds,pulsing veins of morningserene after the night’s slaughter.
I miss the Alice daysof impossible gardenswhere we were grenadesburied in the space beneath caterpillars, where grapevinesgrew dense…