Here we were, driving to Wal-Mart on a munchie-fueled quest in our onesies at night to find snacks. Even the black cat that brought us to an eerie stop in the middle of the road by the cemetery couldn’t

i thought it was one thing, but I was talking to another. snakes in trees got my hair tangled. you layed awake at night listening to Alex Jones, the whole world a conspiracy against you. i sat in your

what a blender of extremes, choices, polarized gray areas of disgust and weeping beauty, of frostbite and thawing sunrises, of this road or that, on the one hand yet on the other, if I don’t but if I do,

she called it the upside down kingdom and showed me a man who washed feet and became king of the world, where our glow-stick hearts must be broken to love, and opening our arms makes room to hold the world,

There are not many of them left - the old-growth maple trees that exude ancient knowing, bark as wrinkly and deep as a great grandmother. Even the black ants are bigger, slower, gentler, who travel up