so many different creatures all creeping and picking their own kinda way under wet leaves in the yard drilling down aren’t we all ok so varied?
Tag: poetry
fifty seven : that house again
the house resounds with a prickle prickle unspoke judge be farther found off walls off walks off into the moonlight you will soon turn into mold and dust green plants puffing pulling it down for now it sits empty white shell a crock of developers bargain doing nothing for us at all
use what you got 