A hawk my totem crossed my path.
Good thing to come? Or is it a warning?
Sitting alone. Happy.
The world is still and cold, covered by a blanket of white
Would you please stop pushing me?
There is something fundamentally frightening about a broken chair
This found poem was written with parts of my tweets. Can you find them?
Good thing to come? Or is it a warning?
Sitting alone. Happy.
The world is still and cold, covered by a blanket of white
Would you please stop pushing me?
There is something fundamentally frightening about a broken chair
This found poem was written with parts of my tweets. Can you find them?