trees once—
spikes line this road
through the forest
deaf now,
like many of us
whispering forest
gossips in the wind
mourns lost cousins
utilized
trees once—
spikes line this road
through the forest
deaf now,
like many of us
whispering forest
gossips in the wind
mourns lost cousins
utilized
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