What I wouldn’t give to strip every last memory of you from the depths of my soul / Nightmares: est. July 1997 / how is it fair that I still dream of being trapped with you / in that trailer, in my misery / how is it even fucking fair that we live with a lifetime of damage and you don’t?
-rjm
loose threads
a smattering of things
recent posts
about
Jo McCrory is a writer and artist living in northern California.
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A little bee hovers beside my plants,
its body a precise machine
It regards me from a distance -
Hello, large friend -
and alights on a leaf no wider than my thumbnail
-rjm
loose threads 