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The Noise Of Trouble
"In the present we are always in memory." - Trish Keenan
Friday, January 1, 2010
Birth
When the night has gone
we amble from our beds
onto the porch.
the wind cold,
enticing us to action.
birds fly from power lines,
cats stalk them in the garden
and everything is reborn.
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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
Hank
Vonnegut
Carver
Pynchon
Ruefle
Wilde
Rochefoucauld
Joyce
Rogers
Heraclitus
Music
TNOT
Mini Soap
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Chain Letter Author
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Where You Used To Be
The Course Of Empire
"You Don't Understand A Thing I Say"
For The Girl In London
The Usefulness Of Others
IT'S COMPLICATED
The End
Tail Or.
Perpetual
The Function Of Memory
Another Goodbye For Another
Bad People
In Her(e) The World Begins
Menagerie
Born Still
Sprawled Out With No Reason In Order
Everyday Horror
What would daryl say?
scribbles from another page
detri
The Sunshine For What It's Worth.
An Inconvenient Gift
Slug
Sun Break
My Advice/Maxims
Rhymes & Hymns of the Listless
Champagne and Sham Pain.
Hear Knows When
You Don't Even Have To Say It To Know
Trees
This Number Is No Longer In Service
Tea Leaves
Lines In Succession, Heart Bound Oppression
Back And Forth
Peace
more lines
Spraypaint
Met.
Gap
Glass And Past
Proving
Masturbation
Je Suis Vous
Rambling Love
A Darkness
Shearing
Frigid Sunrise
Ghosts
Curious Flame
Birth
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About Me
R
I'm an outgoing introvert, maybe you're one too.
View my complete profile
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