blood, bone,
flesh and fur
crumpled on the
asphalt.
Entrails burst out
of the abdominal
cavity.
The form
once living
now
disintegrating
beneathe
every passing
tread.
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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
-
▼
2010
(584)
-
▼
June
(49)
- Yup
- For Savannah's Mother
- Bullets
- Snakecharmer
- Silence In The Modern Home
- Warning
- Non-Constructionist Stance
- Wonder
- Dropping Gazes To The Floor
- Obsession
- Another One for B.S.
- fits
- Gemini
- Do I? I Do.
- Many Masters
- Life (etc...)
- Narcissus
- The Tides Are Racing Against Us
- Making Choices
- Like Miners In The Goldrush
- Pursuit
- History (Recent & Otherwise...)
- Rearview Mirror
- Certainty
- Optimist
- derniere nuit
- Character Actor
- The Well
- Gorgeous(for B.S.)
- the final silence of the night
- Ask Yourself
- Another Night For The Books
- Darkness
- Mother Night
- A Constant Concern
- Happily
- Violence
- Recuerdo de Anoche
- Asme Un Favor
- Orgullo!
- Si la repuesta es si, despues que?
- Sera (donde nos buscamos esta noche)
- Tail (Or ore Or?)
- How Beautiful You Are.
- Cadence &
- Hunter/Prey
- 2 Thoughts:
- }__________{
- Free/Way
-
▼
June
(49)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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