the handle of the empty cup
Space longing for a tide
of hot water
Ecstatic rush against
colored porcelain
Buoyancy as green colors
the water bit by bit
Steeped in process
Lips waiting in expectancy
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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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