Red lies on his belly
In a bar of light.
Face to the wall
Hind legs splayed,
He abandons himself
To the warmth.
Red lies on his belly
In a bar of light.
Face to the wall
Hind legs splayed,
He abandons himself
To the warmth.
poetry... mostly...
writer, editor, educator
"This world is but a canvas to our imagination"
Writing Lostness
A selfish poet
Stevenson's French culture blog. No shit.
author + reader
. . . a meeting place where poetry chapbooks are celebrated and reviewed
Poetry, nature, books, & speculative philosophical musings
pages from an unbound book
breathing through our bones
fixing blind spots w/ cards
"Tarot helps you meet whatever comes in the best possible way."
Thoughts on writing and reading
the view from my precarious perch
Bespoke.Like you.
Snapshots of the mindful life.