you find it, will you know
what it looks like?
When
you feel it, will you know
it's right for you?
When
they come along, will you
reach out your hand?
When
then is now,
will you live in that moment?
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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)
-
▼
November
(55)
- Bird Song
- Goddess
- The Children We Were, Are.
- rage
- Don't always wear your heart on your sleeve, it's ...
- Someday Your Prince Will Come
- Clever Fucker
- ideal
- Fractal Inspiration
- Her Arrival
- Todays Afternoon Fiction Romance
- Red Lion
- Archaeologist
- Midnight Passage
- King Wild Heart
- The Darkness at the Edge of the Light
- If we were young forever we would never learn from...
- The Great Deceiver
- Unexpected Guests
- Speak Easy
- remember to throw it away
- Boris
- Re: Lunch Poems
- nothing
- Anonymous Ghost
- where it happens
- a normal love
- My Opinion On Religion & Politics
- Only One Thing Left to Give
- Maple
- On Writing
- the body at rest
- Love Poem
- Problems Of The Civilized World
- MVMT
- What Did The Universe Do To Deserve This?
- Your eyes are gleaming with the same dreaming we a...
- That Which The Prophets Heard
- estrangement
- Her
- seeing you
- Varnish
- proof
- Red Rivers
- A Vision Of The End
- The Return Of...
- Pigs, Wolves & Sheep
- expulsion from the throat
- When
- for the snails of the world
- Endless Onion
- The Prince
- what's been lost / what still remains
- shadoeye
- mid day dream (1 of 4 short pieces for _._. )
-
▼
November
(55)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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