There was a fork in the road, and I chose properly. The path ahead was beautiful, full of love, but the love was elusive.
Blablabla I cut through the brush rejoining the others.
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New Muses for a Posthuman Age
Late last year I wrote a 10 sonnet sequence entitled New Muses for a Posthuman Age, the idea being to update the goddesses and answer...
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transition home
when the ghost in the basement
won’t stop wailing i want ouuuut!
& you holler right back
don’t we aaaall, my friend!
the dog at...
