Blooming tulip
Petals spreading
Stemmed body
held gently
in a milk bottle
Garbage bins
sit outside the
kitchen window
filling vast bellies
She is sleeping
in the bedroom
as afternoon
turns to evening
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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
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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