My nest is rust, it’s sand and dust it’s windblown emptiness, the sage of rheumy eyes. “I’m home again” it’s age of eggs, a yolk turned green. it’s smell, it’s […]
Oh yes.. here is a damn fine poet looking for a musician for their lyrics.
A journey through the seasons with two adopted whippets, a poet and a camera
Hoping to inspire the world one word at a time.
2 years, mental illness, bucketlist
Meditations from the Midwest
FICTION by J Teal