In Night They’re All Gray thrill of the hunt always there, dependent on which end you are at Posted on November 8, 2019November 8, 2019 by izaak
Harvest This is the opening poem for my sci-fi novel: A World Sings Itself. Maybe you’ll hear some more about it, in the future? Posted on June 17, 2019August 10, 2019 by izaak