Your emojis
Do not translate on my phone
All those messages
By the time they reach my screen
Are nothing but gibberish
Our phones are talking
Electronic sweet nothings
In each other’s circuits
Let them whisper their secrets
While we use ordinary words
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
Puff Of Smoke Poems 