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Tag Archives: solitude

Private Practice

These are rehearsals.
Before the curtain rises
on that show about empty nests,
practice solitude–
Ten minutes, an hour, a day
with no one asking
for money, food, rides.
Test the quality
of the air at midday,
at midnight.
Soft as the leaves on maple trees
when the wind dies down,
quiet as nights without crickets.

The Novel Bunch

aka: The Happy Bookers

The Sketchbook

MOSTLY MONTREAL, MOST OF THE TIME

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

Writing the Day

A Ronka Poetry Practice Since 2014

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment

leaf and twig

where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry