june and all i can feel is the bright green tenderness of a new leaf
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@bonemeadows
june and all i can feel is the bright green tenderness of a new leaf
extreme tenderness at all times: holding seeds in my hands, holding my friend who didn’t bring a jacket, carrying the bugs outside, moving the sapling to where it will have room to grow
4.7.22 @nosebleedclub prompt, real angel
clean sheets, one window open to the cool air of spring dusk, a glass of water, and a dog and a book on the bed
second day of spring
both of us are always so entranced by those dark woods across the water
early march and the red-winged blackbirds are back
just got hit with an overwhelming, dizzying, desperate need to go to the library and look in the free magazine pile i must be strong and get through tonight and work tomorrow and then i can do that
some of the books i read in 2025
i made a pact with memory but the terms are ill-defined
world too big for my heart
mattaei botanical gardens - july 2025
ann arbor - july 2025
a friend’s home, saturday morning - july 2025
Michigan
Summer 2025
07.01.25 - @nosebleedclub
90 on the frontage road just to feel your eyes dragging on their own blood supply. i scratch the poison ivy blistered on my wrists. my mouth feels full of a rotten muscle. the heat on full blast so the car doesn't catch on fire or whatever. i think we should both die up here, feed the mountain and its glimmer of vultures.
later on, i wait for the coyote choir but the heat holds their bodies down in cool hollows. then i wait for the stars but they've been dimmed by the burning foothills. i remember a certain breeze of childhood that parted yellow kitchen curtains and tasted fuzzy with thunderstorm. i've made a bad plan that feels good. if i ever tell you about it it'll be too late.