The Teacher Behind the Glass

Another day, another lesson.  George Herrington, a paunchy, middle-aged man in a tweed jacked, sat at his desk surrounded by papers, books, and pens.  He was reading a dusty tome and taking notes, augmenting slides on an ancient laptop.  He hummed quietly to himself while he worked, occasionally reaching up a hand to readjust his […]

When No One Knows the Taste of Ink

What is this cragged face We see haunting our shelves the colour of bone  Among a myriad of dusty junk perhaps a planter now alone  What are these sightless lifeless eyes of yours that stare unseen towards  Us with your unmoving expression frozen in marble you voiceless lord  Should we heed your face your nameless nose your words have served […]