now
green is all remember
those bare trees of winter
though I do know
they lived
I cannot
conjure them again
meaning
Spring, at last.
now
green is all remember
those bare trees of winter
though I do know
they lived
I cannot
conjure them again
meaning
Spring, at last.
aka: The Happy Bookers
Artist
MOSTLY MONTREAL, MOST OF THE TIME
I came to where you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.--John Ashberry, "The New Higher"
custom poems on vintage typewriters
One Poet's Writing Practice
A Ronka Poetry Practice Since 2014
Living in the moment
where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry
