In the early mornings a cool dew now lingers in the grass, but like my vague thoughts of winter it disappears with the sun. Continue reading
Tag Archives: my ghostly heart
postcard from quarantine
A new rhythm has emerged. The passing of time measured by moon phase and sunrise. Circles within circles. Continue reading
notes from New York City
walked a dozen blocks,
breathing it all in
the old, the new, the beautiful, the crumbling, all linked together by sidewalks and narrow streets like strings tying together.
walked a dozen blocks, lived a dozen different lives
the doorways, the windows, the alleys
worlds like secrets written on a piece of paper,
folded, in my pocket