a cart full of home, ingredients
for soups and stews and
pasta sauces cozy comfort
I long to wrap around you
tied with childhood’s long strings
a too warm blanket you can push away
so you don’t smother
while you’re eating
a cart full of home, ingredients
for soups and stews and
pasta sauces cozy comfort
I long to wrap around you
tied with childhood’s long strings
a too warm blanket you can push away
so you don’t smother
while you’re eating
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 Ronka Poetry Practice Since 2014
Living in the moment
where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry
