I dreamed of doors and students
both locked.
Racing through the night
I crossed enemy lines
carrying knowledge like water.
All that rush,
all those sloshing buckets
for nothing. The key, when found,
turns easily in the lock,
closes, opens.
I dreamed of doors and students
both locked.
Racing through the night
I crossed enemy lines
carrying knowledge like water.
All that rush,
all those sloshing buckets
for nothing. The key, when found,
turns easily in the lock,
closes, opens.
there's a poem in every day
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