white field broken by
headstones, iced moss, your footprints
cemetery snow
white field broken by
headstones, iced moss, your footprints
cemetery snow
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
Once again your words slowed me down to a standstill, a complete stop. Very few things do that. I’m so grateful!
It was that kind of day. Thank you for such lovely feedback.