Babur
We named him Babur; the sweet Marmalade cat we kept, because he carried in his stripes a tiger spirit, brave and bold (his less-striped lion-brother we called Simba). “Babur, that […]
We named him Babur; the sweet Marmalade cat we kept, because he carried in his stripes a tiger spirit, brave and bold (his less-striped lion-brother we called Simba). “Babur, that […]
Before the aged librarian begins to read a book not read before he inhales, he exhales with utmost tranquility he lets his fingers tiptoe lightly on its luscious spine, as […]
When the tide is low and moon spills silver in the silence of the swells; when ships have truce for once with sea; when every tavern in the port has […]
Some nights I seek the violence a stars miasma of relentless plasma, unfor- giving our sins. I think of glaciers, marrows melting, oceans rising; of missiles, ash and missions, bones […]
This text was found in the aged librarian’s desk (postmortem), the handwriting was not that of the librarian but scribbled in green ink by an anonymous feminine hand. Somewhere In […]
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