written by: Rochelle Foles
irish moss hung from barren tree branches
veil of a ghost bride long after she’d been jilted
gently, almost imperceptibly moving in the dead still of the quiet bayou
generations upon generations
of ill begotten secrets hidden in hoodoo altars of hollow bee trees
multiplying in shadowed power intent unknown save to a privileged few
carrying on the
in the face of those
who would deny the wisdom and dominion of the ancestors
She is a logophile and her playful attitude towards words can often be seen in her writing through her use of fonts, space, spelling and design.
She considers it a privilege to be read and to be an active contributor to Spillwords.