Willing to wilt
Not easy to fit the rhythm of bits it tilts into pieces; no wit or reason is lit it wilts like flowers in grit are lost without shit in guilt. […]
Not easy to fit the rhythm of bits it tilts into pieces; no wit or reason is lit it wilts like flowers in grit are lost without shit in guilt. […]
It’s not the scent of vertical rain, but how the shadows where spun from a cumulus cloud to flee with the wind cross the vastness of sea and to meet […]
To April — singing of blackbirds clinging to trees In dawn still stinging from frost and bringing the breeze the scents that’s slinging blooms into ringing for peace. Then gently […]
Picking mushrooms you can barely sense the might of mycorrhiza growing down below, how it tangles with the roots, embrace the trees and links with soil to feed the bloom […]
The ancient sailor sat by the shore staring at nothing with cataract eyes. “Sea will come to swallow us soon”, he muttered “It’s spring tide already, uncle?” He chuckled lighting […]
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