The sun we barely remember
hides all winter in the barn
clever sun concealed
but stealing glimpses
between weather battered boards.
The sun we barely remember
hides all winter in the barn
clever sun concealed
but stealing glimpses
between weather battered boards.
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