For Drusilla
When stirred she howls, vomiting delirium with white foam on her pale poison lips. “Does it matter if you die if you never have been loved?” She giggles as she […]
When stirred she howls, vomiting delirium with white foam on her pale poison lips. “Does it matter if you die if you never have been loved?” She giggles as she […]
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