‘Oh, I’m at home in these woods,’ she sang, twirling through the last leaf greens, the new yellows, the old … More
Tag: november
Miss Apple Votes to Burn
I was wrapped in linens, the ones my father had traded jars of moss for in a desert town years … More
Poem for Paris in November
violet air. ce soir. music plays in Paris. and the worst elements of us whisper. and the best, they leave here, … More
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