We are two seasons
separated by the rhythm
of the world.
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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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2011
(705)
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January
(66)
- A Thought That Occurred While Listening To "In The...
- Old Friends
- The Age of a Soul
- The Meaning of Life
- The Dream ( For L.B. )
- Broken Pieces Looking To Fit Together Once More
- "The Emptiness of Youth"
- Eulogy
- No Singing, Only Rhythm
- Oh!
- A Question of Balance
- Mary said
- The Soundtrack To Imaginary Landscapes
- The Human Condition
- Rhetorical Love
- don't come back don't go back come closer stay ...
- absence
- place position
- Post
- broken faced mirror
- Nothing Out of the Ordinary
- A Request To A Higher Power
- a modern nero
- hey
- Another Shore
- everything that ever was will always be unti...
- Change
- Variation On A Persistence Of Memory
- Memorial Service
- there is always work to be done
- A Written Self Portrait
- that which
- Patter n Order
- The Short Act of Living
- we while away the day with nothing left to say.
- Write What You Know
- The Debate of Pencil or Pen
- Apart
- Thirst
- shard
- A Failure in Mathematics
- Tears In The Typing Pool
- days
- The Girl with the Broken Compass (Draft 1)
- The End of Everything
- the wait
- Two People Out There, Somewhere
- Caras Hechos de Espejos
- Passion
- senora noche
- Ovid
- no hay mentira en estas palabras
- Poetics of Life
- beautiful creature
- Haunting
- The Artist (Draft 2)
- A Saying
- The Artist
- What We Want
- empties
- the late night breeze
- Caged
- Stories of the Apocalypse
- Rolling Dice
- break the li...
- The Remaining Sap Of A Dream At Morning
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January
(66)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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