Starts and Old Hearts
So
this is what
it feels like
to begin again.
The sun begins to
show its face
once more
as bodies ready
for the noontime sun.
Take it by the hand,
make it yours.
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It's always getting late.
When I am not writing this is what I do.
"In the present we are always in memory." - Trish Keenan
It's always getting late.
Introduction
This blog is a virtual notebook of writing that I maintain as often as I can. Poems, stray lines, random observations, all co-exist here. Revisions occur as needed/deemed fit.
See/Hear
A Chronological Archive of Joy and Heartache most often referred to as LIFE
-
▼
2009
(385)
-
▼
August
(34)
- Returning.
- Who We Are
- Phade
- Refusal
- The View From Atop Babel
- One By One
- Rooftop Fish Tacos
- needlessstress
- Width
- A Bouquet Of Dead Flowers For You
- Things We Do
- Reminders
- Extraordinarily Ordinary
- Terms and Conditions
- For Tyler
- A Brief Note On The Only Thing That Matters
- A Series Of Shorts
- Doldrums
- Mirrors Facing Mirrors
- Condition
- The Waking Life
- Familiar
- Keeping Constant Motion
- Everywhere You Go You Will Find This
- I Come To Thee
- Fred : "God loves you just the way you are."
- A Celebration Of Opposing Poles
- Holding Fate
- A Frog In The Bottom Of The Well
- Sailin' On
- Hacking through the lack.
- 47
- Nothing Happens All The Time
- All The Great Liars and Me
-
▼
August
(34)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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