wheat and cherries and the world's turning

if you missed me, here is what is happening lately:

"In the tundra, yellow grasses waving goodbye to the warm seasons. Marya Ivanova, grandfather's Masha, Mashenka, trudges over camouflaged hills in winter boots, fur wrapped inside, close tied with leather straps. She is heading to the cool slate forest, stamping down gold seedheads and silver tassels. Masha, Mashenka, Marya Ivanova is walking in autumn to the end of the world."

ded maroz and snegurochka are sneaking in through autumn skies to haunt my dreams and press out of me a harvest of words. it's proserpine and the descent of inanna, godfather death and love like salt, kore and the gears that shift the world. see you on the other side.

All the Cool Kids

We interrupt this blog's suspicious silence for some important news!

I'm following in the footsteps of some of my favorite artists and writers to bring you exclusive content and prizes via Patreon. If you're interested in supporting my work in a more direct manner, please check it out. And if you have any suggestions, drop me a line. I like to hear from you .

This blog, where I post unwieldy word-children who are not professionally polished, will always be free content. My books will always be available via Amazon if you're interested. So if you are not willing or are unable to support the Patreon, do not fret. I have not disappeared. I am building. And plenty more is coming in the (hopefully) near future.

Thank you for always supporting me in my crusades.

precocious

Some claim April rain
brings the blossoms of May, but
trees here are hasty.


This is the opening stanza of this month's format challenge over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads. We're writing a renga together, and I'm so excited to read the finished result.

Along the Shore

This blog is an experiment.  A testing of the waters, so to speak.  If you want to read the inspiration behind this journal, please visit Origami Hour with Nigel Paresis, La Sirene Noir, runaway sentence, and the inimitable Pretty All True.  For proof that talent runs in the family, as well as less comfortable things, visit my amazing sister at All the Things I Am.

What you will see here will not be polished, perfected work.  This is my place to participate in writing experiments and online challenges, and critiques are expected, even encouraged.  If you hurt my feelings, though, you will be keelhauled.  So keep it constructive, because I am cruel, like the sea. 

Your beautifully autocratic Captain, 

Grace