Reading spines
His finger traces spines; blind he reads the gilded letters embossed as braille he’s forming stanzas in his mind. Heart of darkness, beating. Wanting. Craving fleur de mal. But the […]
His finger traces spines; blind he reads the gilded letters embossed as braille he’s forming stanzas in his mind. Heart of darkness, beating. Wanting. Craving fleur de mal. But the […]
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