moving slowly
as if trapped in honey
rhythm seeps into
bone and flesh
soon enough
you don't resist
and move and
move and move
to the universe
finding itself
within you
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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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▼
2017
(526)
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▼
September
(44)
- Morning 9/29/17
- Morning 9/28/17
- i had to stop pretending to be everything i've nev...
- Morning 9/27/17
- Morning 9/26/17
- Men of No Country
- Ashram
- Emerge from the shadows of delusion Step into the ...
- Colossus of Rhodes
- Listening In
- The Author
- what speaks through us
- Morning 9/21/17
- Morning 9/20/17
- Morning 9/19/17
- To Listen
- Another Awakening
- First Song
- Fusion
- grief
- Everyone is Broken and Suffering. Will i just be ...
- movement
- Don't Believe It
- Convergence
- Those Who Watch
- Reality Not Myth
- morning 9/12/17
- Every So Often
- Bear & Wolf
- elemental cosciousness
- Morning 9/9/17
- Drinking? Why?
- states
- Morning 9/7/17
- Morning 9/6/17
- Morning 9/5/17
- Many Lives Remembered
- The Final Dream
- Bethany
- What is remembered always lives on
- Innerwaves
- Jewel
- Summer Has Yet to Fade
- Thoughts After Broken-Hearted Days
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▼
September
(44)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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