Fur on the fence, wired and crumbling; the leaves and twigs come reaching through. Cycle tracks slither, cutting the mud where my own feet slip and I’m… Read more “Stockades”
Fur on the fence, wired and crumbling; the leaves and twigs come reaching through. Cycle tracks slither, cutting the mud where my own feet slip and I’m… Read more “Stockades”
Vast Imbecility 