Bows move across strings
Soul swelling with crescendos
Salted water moves
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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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2014
(302)
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February
(34)
- small
- Observe / d
- Settling my debts and sorrow I'm not coming back ...
- Honest Man, what lies have you heard?
- Psychic Realtor
- Arrow's Pace
- A Lie & A Truth
- variants
- Not Trying
- Sanitarium Cigarettes
- Lessened
- Fall in love Fall into life.
- When Sunday is Friday
- Inevitable Endings
- Now I fall with determined inevitability.
- Venus Dejected
- befriending strangers without ever meeting why r...
- Every death is little.
- The Escape From Eternity
- I don't want your song to be a memory of the yo...
- Away
- Of Bourbon
- Tears
- Sleepless Haiku
- Ghost Collector
- Tona-Tiuh (Round, Hot, Pulsating)
- Exit Strategy
- wake up late bother no one rain on the window
- My face a mask I cannot remove
- small change
- stop hitting the wind
- use your mouth empty your mind fill it up again
- (untitled/unfinished)
- Driving the 5
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February
(34)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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