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Poor Imp

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About Poor Imp

Life--became stop-start fragments; survival, still--too staggering ; stopped. Heart beat moments and no memory. Barefeet on pavement without the breath to know it's evening.

Then, because I remembered I could love, start-stop rattled-battled back again; thriving, jiving; heartaches and cracks better than a chest that lacks.



Being. Tolkien. Languages. Still Autumns; dashing derring-do Springs into Summer. Impishness. Fencing. Chess. Narrative. Lyrics. Football--er, not the sort with the oblong ball.


Tutor and Editor


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