dusty and rumpled
winter weary we emerge
waving to the sun
like the flowers who
will surely follow, we stretch
our whole bodies up
dusty and rumpled
winter weary we emerge
waving to the sun
like the flowers who
will surely follow, we stretch
our whole bodies up
aka: The Happy Bookers
Artist
MOSTLY MONTREAL, MOST OF THE TIME
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 Poetry Practice
Living in the moment
where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry
