Weeping at Trees
I didn't used to care for April, now I do. Everything's always changing. Let's write some fucking poems.
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I am more with you
We lost two too many this week, at least. I want to tell you about my friend. Then a poem by Andrea Gibson.
Whatever happens
What are we doing? Embracing each other as we are? Holding onto each other for dear life? The answer is yes.
Isn't the moon dark too
We now conclude this brief mental break with a word from/for our friends and body.
A beehive here inside my heart
I sat outside late one morning and saw a billion birds, now it's everyone's problem. Plus some advice for the shifting season, and a poem Molly sent me.