Blades of being
Orbed on soot are faces specked and adiposed, draped in wool. clinging broken, bloomed in rosacea, migrants clawing empty soup-bowls. Skeletons on cobblestones not dead. There’s a scent of lilies, […]
Orbed on soot are faces specked and adiposed, draped in wool. clinging broken, bloomed in rosacea, migrants clawing empty soup-bowls. Skeletons on cobblestones not dead. There’s a scent of lilies, […]
They scared me once: “Beyond that door are secrets, too dangerous for you”. I imagined torture chambers. I saw rooms where teenage girls were starved to death, and when I […]
There is a certain coldness with the comfort of divisions; in the border of a window, I stay detached; I’m safe and covered cloaked by this, my darkest night. The […]
Breeze becomes you as my cue to breathe: to melt; it opens shadows lulls and spills me rose-clouds; it shimmers green; it grins and sparks. … and like words we […]
Between each breath there is still- ness as from death; a gentle kiss of feathers falling. As a partridge might pretend it’s wounded to protect its chicks, I listen to […]
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