Held by Ferns: A Poem for MichFest
Magic is a foot, on 40 fingers In this air Combed conjuring Howl winging on the wind I am upheld and Grow out of This Land And stumble Now steady now stumble We grow up On and of and off This Land Movement is how I look Everyone in the eye as I Near them … Continue reading Held by Ferns: A Poem for MichFest