Insomnia
Your scent is moon, a song of lilies left at night; you’re whispered pages torn from notebooks, memories; you’re my rage, insomnia, the emery of finger- prints as left on […]
Your scent is moon, a song of lilies left at night; you’re whispered pages torn from notebooks, memories; you’re my rage, insomnia, the emery of finger- prints as left on […]
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