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“the sound of patterns breaking”
or: commune ghosts. or: radical communitarian. the evening is eternal as it finally falls into blackness, and i am greeting by twinkling stars and magic woods. i can’t believe i’m here— one can follow an instagram account of a once dormant slowly waking redwood commune, but to actually arrive feels surreal. fritz receives me with…
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the ripening….
june is here and it’s clear to me that things will be good for a while //how long? i couldn’t say, oh how i wish june would stay (he’s such a handsome fellow that i adore.) if june were a man: he’d be tall and tan with a golden curl on his brow– son of…
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river medicine
i wear my heart. stay true to what you know will make you happy, even if it means travelling into the unknown. feel your way. the waterfall grooms us and sings lullabies. i doze and the pups scramble. the waterfall soothed my agitated spirit. big change is in the skies. radical…