Bones come at sundown

White or gray, thin as needles or like the timbers of a shipwreck, bones come at sundown.

This post is part of my book-long erasure poetry and collage project on Tove Jansson’s The Summer Book.

It rises; it dies

It rises, it doesn’t rise, it dies; a wilderness of growth entwined in battle or in love.

This post is part of my book-long erasure poetry and collage project on Tove Jansson’s The Summer Book.

Balance

It tried to grow directly into the teeth of every storm, crouched and twisted, the balance between survival and extinction so delicate.

This post is part of my book-long erasure poetry and collage project on Tove Jansson’s The Summer Book.