roses rucked in rows to weather the weather. through the dreary pane farther off, togetherContinue reading
Bloom
isolation
midwinter (out my window)
(after William Bronk)
back then was much the same
the scope, the skies:
blues and greens, scarlet cloud-tops
the moon electric on the washing line. Continue reading
Close
[Reader Warning: Gently sacrilegious-themed silliness ahead]
The Angel Gabriel’s doing stand-up. Continue reading
Peter Frankis writes 