Gentle current on a clear day
Gray gathers at the outer edges of perception
A shift begins
Drops of water
turn into a torrent
Lightning streaks the sky
Thunder cracks
Get through
Survive
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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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▼
August
(21)
- Red Sunrise
- This life forever expanding and contracting as our...
- Over and Over
- On Death
- Eternal Life
- To Do
- There You Go
- A Gathering Storm
- Amputation
- Drown
- The Days and Nights
- When a grain of sand is moved has the whole beach...
- 5 a.m.
- Rebirth
- Love
- To Be
- Open Honesty
- Other Travels
- Cat Circus at the Governors Mansion
- Tired and restless Warm summer night left me tossi...
- Where Days Begin
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▼
August
(21)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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