Introduction

Hello!

I don't really say much.

I started this journal as a way to write things without any fear of people finding them. Since the slow descent of Tumblr turned into a nosedive, I've started rebuilding the network of people I follow over here. I'm not great at participating; I'm a pretty dedicated lurker. Feel free to say hello or interact though! I just am not great at starting the conversation.

Right now I listen to too many podcasts; I read books; and every once in a while I try to watch stuff. I work in technical theater during the year and the woods during the summer.

And if you're curious, here is the poem my journal title is from.

Chimney Swift

Poem: The Nurse Tree

The Nurse Tree
by Molly Peacock

Why waste away in a box
when you could be a nurse tree?
That’s what they call dead logs:
mushroomeries of the woods.

Your living room’s a wood
of couches, books, and chairs.
You’re dead not at all, but
could you be preparing

for things to grow inside
the chest of the log
you plan to become:
cherished compost heap

where heat turns the brown
mess of feelings, sorry,
that’s peelings, into comp-o-
sition? For we who love

our hands in dirt, a leaf skirt
decomposing seems an ideal
station between this life and
next: I visit your room

as on a forest walk. Passing
a fallen log — is that you? — 
I see a scarlet fungus cap
pop up from friable bark.