Silence: III
What the tiny noise
of a flickering candle
breaks
Silence: II
Fragile vase, clear crystal
Any fidgety toddler
could tell you:
It was meant to fall
Silence: I
Cosmos cut to save them
from first frost
lift pink faces
to the ceiling
searching for the rain
aka: The Happy Bookers
Artist
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
