Like a Kerouac Angel, I go scratchety-
scratch There, in the candlelit room But this doesn't feel much like Desolation I'm a world away from gloom A golden glow lights my bare skin My body sways to a dubby tune Jack couldn't conceive of such a badass chick Writing poetry by the moon
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I am a conservation field worker in New Zealand. I love mountains, sunrises, river swims, barefeet, cold beer, campfires, live music and whiskey. Archives
September 2018
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