Tag Archives: it’s a crime

the dogwood blooms then sheds her promise one flushed dusting at a time lacing her fallen frock upon heartwood’s bridge 7 is only a lucky number if its 5 were never left alone without its 2 glimmering on a finger … Continue reading →

Objectification bookends subjectification tightly cuffed wrists locked on hold let me be clear on this morning my dear i’m more than than the sum of my parts more than my milk long strands of silk licorice threads intertwined deep pools … Continue reading →