Ghosts of poets lost
His books are ghosts of poets lost the aged librarian is not alone at night when moonlight kisses frost on papers, words grow blood and bone of authors that he […]
His books are ghosts of poets lost the aged librarian is not alone at night when moonlight kisses frost on papers, words grow blood and bone of authors that he […]
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