Saturday, August 6, 2016


Your heart felt good
it was drippin' pitch and made out of wood
And your hands and knees 
felt cold and wet on the grass next to me

picking up goats
goats for my farm
my farm on my dad's land
my dad's land in Grass Valley
the same land in Grass Valley I hated as a kid
but now find myself hoping and dreaming
dreaming big, lofty dreams
dreams of community
dreams of kale
kale and goats

Life is fast.

when it comes to the farm, my farm, I keep being told "Do it alone." even when I try to bring someone in. Things get shut down, they don't work out.
I'm isolated in this.
In the best possible way.
It means I can do this.
I will do this.

cuddles with Rosie
whispers of fall
wind in a flaxen mane
early morning rains
dew on spiderwebs
dead heat of summer
slow exhales of exertion

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