I hope you are all well.

Friday, November 7, 2008. Old Horth leaned heavily on his talking staff. Walking with the weight of years and worry. His 47 anos have not been kind to him, but he stays in good spirit. The return of the Sun cycle. Placing the twelf totem, the massive pillar on its way. With the markings from the water carriers, Zethines. Would gather on the plane of the ancestors.

Poems, stories and rants by writer Julie Buffaloe-Yoder. April 7, 2011 by Julie. Sheds her skin on the path. She rubs her nose over. The moss of fallen logs. Bit by bit, she exposes. In dead pine straw,. Then curl up, unseen,.

A place to meander with me awhile, until we all meet again. Monday, December 22, 2008. Walking with Woods in Plainfield, Vermont. Fern, thou art a fan of feathered. Fingers tickling my bare shins,. There will never be another. Saturday, December 13, 2008. One Down, Three to Go.

8220;Of making many books there is no end . Welcome, my name is Peter. Because it sums up neatly my conception of good art, a combination equals parts absurd and sublime. The onion as a vegetable is such, in my opinion, being both delicious and ridiculous. More so even than the turnip or the carrot. So I made this site, my orphanarium, for my fragments and abortions. As the world is replete with people, so is .

In there, she can escape reality. She goes there often on her own. To think or cry or be alone. Where no one can malign her misery. She tried to hide within the room. But seekers flocked to fix her gloom. And so she chose the only place. Where no one can invade her space.