flower painting class at the public library

She began with instructions on talking—
If you say,
I can’t paint a flower,
the message travels down your arm
into your hand
which is always listening.

After that, it got even more complicated.

Leave a comment

A Hundred Falling Veils

there's a poem in every day

The Novel Bunch

aka: The Happy Bookers

Red Wolf Prompts

I came to where you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.--John Ashberry, "The New Higher"

typewriter rodeo

custom poems on vintage typewriters

A Poet in Time

One Poet's Writing Practice: Poems by Mary Kendall

Writing the Day

A Ronka Poetry Practice Since 2014

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment