From a distance I watch
the people coming and going.
Hours pass with the human tide.
Solitary in this crowd
though I wonder if
anyone has
seen me.
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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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▼
2018
(251)
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February
(37)
- Her Grief
- Morning 2/27/18
- Mantra
- Morning 2/26/18
- Morning 2/25/18
- I and We
- Morning 2/24/18
- God of Fire
- Freewrite 2/22/18
- Slate
- Growth / Maturity
- harmony
- Winter Day
- Calling and Memory
- The Mountain
- The Working Poor
- The Watch
- The Escape
- Wednesday, February 14th 2018
- Morning 2/13/18
- Imperfect Student
- Pendulum at Rest
- Past Lives and Current Incarnations What are we b...
- Incarnation of Now
- Morning 2/11/18
- Morning 2/10/18
- An Invitation to Violence
- The Dreamer
- Is There Heaven
- Morning 2/7/18
- Morning 2/6/18
- Sentinel
- Departure
- The Painter
- Purple Flower Bloom
- Espejo
- Dreaming Into Reality
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▼
February
(37)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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