For decades, the debris
of bored, unmoored hope.
Ordered: a brace of fullness.
Fulfilled: bits of loneliness.
Now there are these loves
for thousands of stories or
prayers. I never surrender/
care for myself this way
_
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from eremition
I lie here I don't count the days anymore than I count trees they're here and although real also possess speechlessness as if a ca...
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Friends and old neighbors shutting it down in honor of John Crawford. _
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At had us pose for this pic up at Aunt R's place on Lake Huron so he could put it up in his dorm. "Don't tur...
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