buckchristensen:
Mount Moran surveys her blazing aspens
buckchristensen:
are we in my dream, or in yours?
buckchristensen:
the things that go unseen
buckchristensen:
where the buffalo roam
buckchristensen:
we do not print fiction
buckchristensen:
a broken window, a breathless night, a chance to explain myself
buckchristensen:
where the paint boileth over
buckchristensen:
an occurrence at gibbon river bridge
buckchristensen:
Cunningham Cabin braces for winter
buckchristensen:
art, verse, music, and worth
buckchristensen:
she's pretty, but she's bound by etiquette
buckchristensen:
don't you believe wolves have souls?
buckchristensen:
this is my heart swelling