If only the rain could
wash away more than
just our thirst.
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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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December
(23)
- No More Death
- In the Heart of Winter
- In The Heart of Winter / The Summer of My Life
- He Who Waits
- these final moments
- if the mind can believe then everything else will ...
- A Freewrite Disguised as a Poem (and vice versa)
- Morning Drive
- purify
- Lens
- Living Among the Stars
- There is no choice that is not of consequence.
- fishing
- Three Observations on Sunday, December 14th
- For Anna
- 12 13 14
- 12 13 14
- Check the Apple
- Tenant of the Attic
- Im/possible
- 4 briefs
- We were strangers when we fell in love.
- We Will Cross These Distances Together.
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December
(23)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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