We lurch through life
as though it were dark woods.
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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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June
(25)
- A lifetime could never be enough for any of us.
- break open your head let yourself float into sky d...
- Invisible Seasons
- On Virgil
- Monument to Now
- We lurch through life as though it were dark woods.
- Cumulative
- On Modernity
- Hope suffers from the longest death.
- Barbaric Kindness
- It is possible to speak without a tongue Oftentim...
- How far down the cave must we travel before our li...
- For Flannery
- Hibernate at home Untethered from distraction Cur...
- Capturing the light from the Sun.
- Fish Don't Have To Learn How To Swim.
- Fish Don't Have To Learn How To Swim.
- Calculating Gravity
- Scattered Thoughts All Gathered Together (evening ...
- Brotherhood of the Black Moon
- We are ghosts who remain among the living.
- The Eraser
- I'm at the bar or liquor store about as often as I...
- I've got nothing to prove and everything to lose.
- God stopped talking to you long ago but you can't ...
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June
(25)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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