in the late 1880's word began to spread from where the winds whipped the dry land and the blood of the buffalo lay squandered of a vision that was to save the Earth and the people who cared for her dance my people, for the cruelty of the white man seems to know no bounds dance my people, for the tears that have salted our cheeks cannot heal our hearts nor feed our bodies dance my people, for our hearts have been broken and our hungry children need food dance my people, for th

we all lack the gumption to stop our mass consumption. We don’t wanna die, but (loop) our world: aster, goldenrod, storms and sweaty...

oozing chin drops dripping with the swell of throaty laughter echoing in the woods a pause, and a single teardrop drips. You never told...

At this point I would like to examine the word hope. The word hope has become a beleaguered entity. It has become romanticized,...