My cocoon
This night is not a rose but sea and thorns, a gilded mirror, chandeliers and gneis, the end and new beginnings, moss and stones a story and a dream. This […]
This night is not a rose but sea and thorns, a gilded mirror, chandeliers and gneis, the end and new beginnings, moss and stones a story and a dream. This […]
Still skeletal the gnarly canopy of this old man oak, with sap as thick as buttermilk, leans against despair of time; when suddenly the daring thrill of blackbirds challenge thaw […]
Now we see through a glass, darkly
A Little Writing Workshop of Horrors.
rejuvenatement - not retirement
words and scribble.
The Quantumverse
Poetry
About fantastical places and other stuff
Sharing my thoughts, poems, travel & art
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