The color of the water
the movement of the sun
The volition of the tides
the color of the skies
The voice of the wind
the chatter of the leaves
The blood of the rivers
the passage of the clouds
The sadness of the prairies
the ages of the canyons
The children of the fruit trees
the sympathy of the moon
The tides passing soon
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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)
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August
(21)
- A Rising of No Consequence
- Worry
- The Eternal Season
- Don't paint yourself in Black and White.
- When 14 was 7.
- We are melting in place.
- 6:45 a.m.
- Dangling Carrots
- Rope
- Staring out the window and into the glare of a mi...
- Bringing a Bear to a knife fight.
- elemental
- Rock scraping against rusted iron.
- Faulty Navigation
- Summer Canines
- Two Way Mirror
- Wanting
- A Night at the Black Crow
- Won't / Will
- 10 Lines of Etc, etc...
- Finding beauty in my tears.
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▼
August
(21)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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