under a busted shack or tongue of cocklebur she unearthed her own powdering honeycomb voicing nothing – through the ice, some observe private property, basketry over the window exposed as nutshells before straying that far from the wedding cake
Ring around
Published by Jnana Hodson
In downsizing to a remote fishing village in Downeast Maine, this eclectic writer feels everything's coming together. View all posts by Jnana Hodson