men with Nerf guns
chase through the yard
yelling and giggling—
small boys returned
for an afternoon or
till they run out of breath
men with Nerf guns
chase through the yard
yelling and giggling—
small boys returned
for an afternoon or
till they run out of breath
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
