] what branches dance when emptied a sigh awake with frost —!

dreaming as ever —known, starsweet voice of pause a kiss pressed petal in silence, ever as[ ] what wounds bank when placed a forge tendered rending —?

shaping as ever —current, glyphstave knife unknown a root carved prayer in singing, ever as[ ] what sap inks when vined a word spun orbiting moons —;

[#2025dec the 31, #fragment]

sails we lay down and yet[ ] upon the vast deep: a song — echoing chasms and the gentle tail of starwater.

we, tipper-timbre, long stalks dreaming in evergreen coats ...filled with quiet smoke[

]hold on, hold on, hold on: fresh, sweet, cold; glittering.

[#2025dec the 17th, #fragment]

dove-happy in the reflection tree together we can make it, star crowded swing

[#2025dec the 13th, #fragment]

[ ]acorns and perhaps the spin cycle through, we now can — what have you...? [ ] jump shale-footed clatter into the deep ...starlight

[#2025dec the 10th, #fragment]

[#2025dec the 8th, #fragment]

for your orientation: as i snake my way through this pixel universe, it is helpful for you, curious reader, to know a few things. my stories are abundantly queer, neurodivergent, and animist, and wrestle with the overculture of the so-called american west that forces a central perspective of its own importance on the rest of the world. as a human person, i endeavour to extract myself from views and legacies within the genocidal capitalist structures of empire, acknowledging their influence like invasive, strangling weeds, so as not to fall tangled, but focus instead on the light in the trees, the breeze pushing clouds, the wax and wane of moon and tides, the grit of sand and loam of soil, the joy of mushrooms and birdsong. what i mean is: my fiction is speculative, imaginative, food for worlds co-created and carried forth by long legacies of humans in diverse cultures who have thrived, partied, sorrowed, and loved long before capitalism, the state, genocide, fascism, or the individual mythologised, and will exist long after these weeds have been pulled up by the roots and burnt. i'm sure if these perspectives and tools of mine are upsetting or unappealing to you, there is a vine somewhere already swallowing your heart. be content and compost, then, and leave those of us with weather-stained hands to our delights.

this is the barest of beginnings, and some things here will likely grow and burrow, as creative processes do. this post will likely serve as a small #map and be updated when it seems necessary. know my rootedness in queer joy, disabled joy, the liberation of all lands and peoples from genocide, and the downfall of all empires is steadfast and linked with ancestors, peers, and descendants who root the same. may we wield hammers to build, plows to sow, and hands to care in the worlds that have, are, and will create through it all.

on the wing, mage, #2025dec the 7th

brilliant rainbow, gentle cover nourished by the light. no heavy hand, but steady. grip ...of oak, fragrant rose

what more could i ask for?

[#2025dec the 6th, #fragment]

broken. brow furrows deep as rivers water watched. evergreen? entwined perhaps, once more. a lace upon —

warm honey, eyebright cooled, a constellation sewn...

[#2025dec the 5th, #fragment]

sway, windswept boughs of gold into quiet spears spindled

[#2025dec the 4th, #fragment]