All right, so you don't want to take the ecology challenge. Maybe you'll read a poem. This was written, I dunno, a year or two ago. Bag of Bones It was an opossum, now it’s only a pile of gore on the hundred and eight degree pavement of Six Mile. Bloody tire track impressed in the carcass, splintering bones and squeezing the life out of organs. We drive on past, not giving ...
A humble blog of tragic proportions