its desires.
It beats and yearns
for the sky
it wishes to kiss.
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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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▼
2012
(436)
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▼
October
(32)
- What Wing Biddlebaum Knew
- In No Sense.
- Past Life Marathon
- Peace/Piece
- Take this advice
- Collective Truth
- Broken Gauge In A Gas Crisis
- Messy Piles of Words Grasping for You
- No great story begins
- Love doesn't solve anything.
- wreckage
- Palette Run Together
- Just Stay
- Money In The Garden
- I AM NOT THE ONE YOU LOVE
- Tourist
- Who Are You Talking To?
- Letter
- transitions
- Divination
- Late Night Transport
- Politics is a cancer upon the body of Reason.
- Cellophane
- Remains
- Silence
- Alarmed and Dangerous
- photocopies
- Swan
- A series of random lines upon waking
- The tree cannot live without its roots.
- You should ask the mirror to stop talking, it's v...
- Warren Paice
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▼
October
(32)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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