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, […]
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 […]
Damn you Philistines, woe you harlots of Gomorrah, you kings and queens of sharp sodomic salt. I wish upon you flocks of rabid locusts nesting in your hair. I send […]
My garden is a library, my books are flowerbeds. When leafing through my books I find how flowers in my garden are like poems. A few are buds, in splash […]
Please say it matters not soiled, bespattered. What’s divided can be bridged cause hate is hurtful and still resourceful we can climb and cross the ridge. Please say you’ll follow […]
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