Morning is remorse
Morning is remorse, as lipstick left on glass, stale last left beer, left in scent of cigarettes, sunlight razor blades. The shower she left running as she left me drowsy […]
Morning is remorse, as lipstick left on glass, stale last left beer, left in scent of cigarettes, sunlight razor blades. The shower she left running as she left me drowsy […]
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