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
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
