The night of Saint Lucy
Close to winter solstice Night is dressed in worsted wool, wears polished boots, his hands are pale as knives. He smiles in sickles, as he slyly whispers sordid lies and […]
Close to winter solstice Night is dressed in worsted wool, wears polished boots, his hands are pale as knives. He smiles in sickles, as he slyly whispers sordid lies and […]
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