Sapling pulled from soft soil
Roots exposed
Trembling
the evening breeze
Together
we ask why
I say something
You laugh nervously
We walk away
with a new memory to carry
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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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2016
(372)
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January
(21)
- Infinite Wave
- Feeding A Starving Beast
- It's a long walk to get back home I'll make it ...
- This is what midnight sounds like after the ap...
- Tear a whole into the sky and let the tears rain...
- A Season of Revolution
- Fallow
- Carried
- Intimate Sea
- Sleep less
- Threading Halves
- The Image & The Word
- Magic & Ritual
- Did you hear God moved out of Heaven Left the keys...
- Jesus Outside the Liquor Store
- Tall Oceans
- Even the morning feels old.
- Brief Moments of Immortality
- We aren't alone in this place No matter What sign...
- Is not all love true?
- I the Wind
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January
(21)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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