Something I Always Notice
The pavement
buckles and cra cks
as the roots
grow at a glacial
pace.
Abuelita
shuffles through
the crosswalk,
longing for home
in midst of the city.
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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
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▼
2009
(385)
-
▼
September
(49)
- Drugging The Panther (You Jitney Bastard)
- punched line
- The Inevitable Conclusion
- Only Those You Are Closest To
- Slight Interruption
- Pastoral: an attempt
- Memoir Of A City
- The Morning Walk
- Wire
- bit
- Waitresses
- But is it good?
- Left
- King Of The Restless Hearts
- Re : In Can't at I On.
- Dear Old Man,
- People I Once Knew
- Early Saturday Afternoon
- Too Much
- Crank It Out
- Motivation
- Too Late or Too Early?
- Spectate
- Morning Movement
- Waking
- Edad
- Welcome To The Neighborhood!
- Last Page Of This Book
- Lexicon by Kelli Anne Noftle
- 2nd To Last Chapter Of This Book
- For Stella
- Because I'm Still In Love With You
- Humant
- 9/9/9
- Recovery
- Get Ready
- A Night Of Salvation
- Parts, Pieces, Scraps
- Heat Induced
- Wyatt
- Shititout
- Arson Our Son
- The Limits Of
- Age Is Cruel But Just
- The Unintentional Martyr
- The Beatles Called It A Warm Gun
- Advice for ______ _______. RE: Life
- When The Wonder Ceases
- When The Wanderer Ceases
-
▼
September
(49)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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