Gretchen lives in Northern California, near the ocean.
She writes stories and makes paintings.
When the night sounds start The wind goes away and comes back Stained glass squares the perfect window Here I sit, home at last, I know
By Gretchen Armer3 years ago in Poets
How seven years of innocence escapes? Since the inlet from the house through the reeds Kids roaming breakers at the beauty gates
Behind the yellow safety tape and barriers of hospital cages, I’m in their presence, and they fully acknowledge me. They make me feel like I'm the only person in the room. However, we’re outdoors. And they’re seals.
By Gretchen Armer3 years ago in Earth
Cyan The urge of the voice in her head, it arrives a little ahead As powerless as the sea is with salt, she cried to know who was at fault