There is nothing to say
and we
are saying it
as loudly
as possible
at all times.
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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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▼
2013
(348)
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▼
October
(27)
- Even Mirrors Feel Guilt
- Taking Flight
- Rocks In Whiskey
- An Exercise
- Reaching Towards Beauty.
- To know ones own limitations is the first step in ...
- My personal history is measured through the cast o...
- Bodies of Water
- King of Los Angeles
- A Late Start
- Wasting Breath
- The Remains of Giants
- Self-Portrait Echo
- Ignore All Advice
- Rubber & Marrow
- Shh...
- Day of the Week
- For Maria, on a Saturday night in Long Beach
- Ending The Night
- Kindness is an unending mandate.
- dis jointe d
- William
- I don't need to understand everything in the world...
- Spare Change
- The Constancy of Our Substance
- On Nostalgia
- the words are still here but they swirl inside m...
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▼
October
(27)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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