Clay
Her paw print, laid in clay.
A concave piercing, always asking...
Never answering.
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Purple
Am I a good man? Does such a list exist? How does self grade self? Please teach me. Please, grandfather, please show me. Please feel, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I never asked you. My heart shares your shrapnel, grandpa. Purple. Reflecting yours, in its own
Surrender
🌙 🪔 🪷
Introducing: Soft Landing for Hard Days
Earlier this year, over 30 wonderful humans I know were hit with a RiF. I was one of them. This post is not about that or any company. I know the specific quiet that comes after. The inbox that goes still. The way a Tuesday stops making sense. The strange,
Eucalyptus
I park at the curb near her driveway. A brown anole boasting, getting its reps in on a white bucket. She's kneeling down, wood not yet placed across the frames. A canvas covered with spray paint. She offers a chair first, and does the same. The wood holding