Tidy winter rooms
welcoming as silk
haiku count themselves
in tumbled fingers
full of syllables
finding their rhythm again
while clocks tick forward
through all the new years
clear uncluttered minds
Tidy winter rooms
welcoming as silk
haiku count themselves
in tumbled fingers
full of syllables
finding their rhythm again
while clocks tick forward
through all the new years
clear uncluttered minds
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