I brought a ghost home from the pet store. They wouldn’t eat what I fed them, never drank or needed bathed. But they watched over my bed every night, just hovering, shivering, making ambient howls and eerie creaks a soundtrack to my frozen dreams. In the mornings, I led them round the sunrises on aContinue reading “My Apparition’s Sedition”
Tag Archives: mother earth
Tethered to the Earth
tethered to the earth she who gave us birth taste the metal’s worth dancing with all mirth — We need stinging green Blossom bright like baby beans Call the sun to share her warmth Planet earth, we’re coming forth — tidal waves we’ve wept caverns grown unkempt we scream from the depths: dying for ourContinue reading “Tethered to the Earth”
by wildernesses/stinging green
To me, the color green symbolizes nature, my love for the grass and leaves and pine needles. — By “wilderness,” I don’t mean the vast desert where people dehydrate, or the shipwrecked island survival stories, or rugged backpacking in the woods. When I say “wilderness,” I speak as something not entirely human, something deeply attunedContinue reading “by wildernesses/stinging green”
Jordyn Saelor 