vibrations flooding the bodies
convulsing to rhythms
a flailing dance
the sound encompassing
all creation
til at last
only the sound
exists
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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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May
(32)
- Bud and Blossom
- Lavender Rose
- Rest
- Recent Words for The Muse
- Morning 5/20/18
- Purple and Green (freewrite)
- I Am Consumed By The Thought Of You.
- The Voyage
- Morning 5/17/18
- All
- As The Sun Rises
- Morning 5/15/18
- Just One Moment
- A New Ocean
- The Flood
- Wholly
- Morning 5/12/18
- Recent Events
- Burning Bright
- Small Shifts
- Feast
- You cannot plan for the unpredictable.
- Morning 5/9/18
- Topographical Maps
- Morning 5/7/18
- Purge Yourself
- Ifs
- Beginnings and Endings
- And the sun is out And you are awake And the sun i...
- Sri Bhagawan
- Now is the point of now.
- Push To Let Go
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May
(32)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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