Tag Archives: M F Drummy

These are not self-inflicted wounds my pale flesh endures at this moment but, rather, the insistent announcement of a diagnosis: the time has come. A nightingale awakens me before dawn. On the deck of the yurt I watch a jackrabbit … Continue reading →

What does my touch feel like to you? Is it when you were eight             and freckled on a warm summer evening chasing fireflies with a Mason jar in your hand, your mother calling for you                         across the suburban backyards of … Continue reading →