The trail you lost
Spit(e) and ashes — words. A pull of liquid fire flows as worms inside my veins I’m a cuddling want, a wishful night, a silky corpse. I’m the black prose […]
Spit(e) and ashes — words. A pull of liquid fire flows as worms inside my veins I’m a cuddling want, a wishful night, a silky corpse. I’m the black prose […]
Writing about living in two places (and times)
Poems & Stories from The Author Stew
practising for a whole life
haikai poetry matters
Running in the slow lane
The view from here ... Or here!
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” — Albert Einstein
chronicling my quarter life crisis