The boulders in my head—
deadlines, money, car troubles,
family dramas, all piled on top until
by bedtime, my whole self sank beneath the weight
and I fell asleep with my eyes squeezed shut
against the flash and blare of red emergencies.
The boulders in my head—
deadlines, money, car troubles,
family dramas, all piled on top until
by bedtime, my whole self sank beneath the weight
and I fell asleep with my eyes squeezed shut
against the flash and blare of red emergencies.
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