There are times when the windows
are down and the night kisses you
so coolly that each moment grasps
you by the back of the head and
refuses to drink from any other cup.
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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)
-
▼
September
(42)
- The Woman At The Jazz CLub
- Sunrise
- Midnight Kiss
- small needs
- Life Always Kills The Beautiful (for JH)
- Sins of the Saints
- Second Sight
- Picking Up The Mail
- For Lady Madonna
- Darker Days
- On Language:
- Sidewalk Story
- who/m?
- Tell Me If You Do
- Late Night Overtures
- Fever Dream
- Bouquet
- Endless Kiss
- Feral
- strange people in dark places
- A Rose For Dali
- Consultation
- Images Of A Morning Conversation
- I Know What I Am Doing
- Blank
- "...everything is fine."
- Fresh Cement
- Lobster
- A Comment On TIme
- moth
- Paradise
- Verano Sin Fin
- Ourselves
- Honesty and it's alternatives
- Draining The Spirits
- Late Night Serenade For Sharon
- Reasons to Cry
- Everything Summarized
- Drip and Drop
- Humbling
- Pressure Release Valve
- Guesswork
-
▼
September
(42)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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