All roses bow their heads
when standing alone
in the clutch of
a vase.
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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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▼
2012
(436)
-
▼
January
(48)
- How Quickly Advice Becomes Vice.
- New Standards
- The Violent
- You taste like a mistake.
- Young Neil
- Struggles and Guesswork
- Regrets
- The Goddess Venus
- Knocking Over The Table
- Ability Does Not Equal Talent
- THINK FREELY THINK OPENLY
- The Body at rest
- Bone & Marrow
- We exist within the same time frame but occupy who...
- What It Is
- Approximating Location
- Scraps of Paper on my Cluttered Desk
- Mandrake Bar: Friday, January 20th 2011
- Drone
- Sweet Ave and Acceptance Blvd
- For J.Blowdryer
- beaches
- I AM OM.
- A Gradual State of Progress
- Stop Fucking Around
- a solitary fate
- Drops In a Bucket
- you always leave with the rain nothing here can ke...
- A Hardcore Punk Rock Lifestyle
- VENOMOUS HOWL
- THE BEST HYSTERIA MONEY CAN BUY.
- FreeJazz/Write
- filling space
- This Modern Life
- The Life Process
- Endless Returns
- Remembering why it meant so much makes it easier...
- Regrerts of the Dying
- The Failure of Language
- Competitive Distractions
- Facing Up
- peace and unease
- stranger
- MY MACHINE
- All Those Nights
- Lazy Bones
- Can we go ahead and return to normalcy already?
- FInishing A Book
-
▼
January
(48)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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