Originally posted on Mick’s Neon Fog: I’ve been walking your forest for miles, miles that have turned into months. Deep nights in the strange black of squawking sweat-dreams; the rats that dart through leaves underfoot. I’ve seen the ages of your ancestors carved into trees, behemoths, knotted and twisted, and the gold of sunrises…
via Desperate Lover — A Global Divergent Literary Collective
Changing the world, one word at a time.
Something to pick, savour, or chew over. Some windfalls.
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I write about politics, nature + the environment. Some posts are serious, some not. These are my views, I don't do any promotional stuff and these views are not being expressed for anyone who employs me.
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A Global Divergent Literary and Aesthetic Collective
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