We went backto bright city lights and siren callsbleak rain over stacked chimney potswhere the big clock standsproudly amidst carved buildingsof yellowed stonesticky pubs and well-trodden streets,in which street lampscast...
We went backto bright city lights and siren callsbleak rain over stacked chimney potswhere the big clock standsproudly amidst carved buildingsof yellowed stonesticky pubs and well-trodden streets,in which street lampscast...
Photo by Shiv Shankar I dreamt of you when I was a girla hazy promise,alien and enchantingThe vision bore fruit decades later,a happy union of God,luck and human biology When the...
Photo by Shiv Shankar I dreamt of you when I was a girla hazy promise,alien and enchantingThe vision bore fruit decades later,a happy union of God,luck and human biology When the...
Photo by Brenda Clarke I’ve been working recently on a novel that has grown from a short story I wrote last year. It’s a literary romance based in Mumbai about a...
Photo by Brenda Clarke I’ve been working recently on a novel that has grown from a short story I wrote last year. It’s a literary romance based in Mumbai about a...
Photo by Walt Stoneburner “One’s first diarist,” suggests psychotherapist and essayist Adam Phillips, “is one’s mother who links facts for one, holds the pieces together.” Forget the priest’s confession booth or...
Photo by Walt Stoneburner “One’s first diarist,” suggests psychotherapist and essayist Adam Phillips, “is one’s mother who links facts for one, holds the pieces together.” Forget the priest’s confession booth or...
Usually this blog is about creative writing. Sometimes it is about the thoughts that I just can’t get out of my head until I expel them onto the page: an...
Usually this blog is about creative writing. Sometimes it is about the thoughts that I just can’t get out of my head until I expel them onto the page: an...
Photo by Richard Smith Sadness heaves inside me,waves ofrolling sickness Weight has found a homein the midstof my brow, andin the corners ofmy downturned mouth Spaces floodedwith blacknessConcrete overspringing joy,sucking...
Photo by Richard Smith Sadness heaves inside me,waves ofrolling sickness Weight has found a homein the midstof my brow, andin the corners ofmy downturned mouth Spaces floodedwith blacknessConcrete overspringing joy,sucking...
