Iron rain
In iron rain from rockets, limbs are tornapart, consumed in thermobaric flares;we hear a toddler calls for help; we mournas lookers-ons; we watch but do not dareto intervene, to simply […]
In iron rain from rockets, limbs are tornapart, consumed in thermobaric flares;we hear a toddler calls for help; we mournas lookers-ons; we watch but do not dareto intervene, to simply […]
Only a wild breeze may kiss memories of sunshine into linen. Small bare feet struggle in mud in the last effort to cross the border Even after the bombings, his […]
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