what it is to listen
to a voice once silenced
memory engrained
like grooves on wax
each play wears it
a little further
sometimes the record
breaks and it doesn't
matter how well kept
it may have been
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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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▼
2013
(348)
-
▼
March
(28)
- Every Broken Piece Together Again
- flickering light
- Enlightenment
- The Great Failed Experiment
- What sea is there left to see?
- Important Details
- This Friendship
- Mary
- Many Lives
- As God
- All Travels
- No Alternative
- sound echoes
- Dividing Light
- The Importance of Action
- For Beauty Queens Everywhere
- What Cannot [ ] [ ]
- Raptors
- No Help Here
- Alice
- Morning Notebook
- Q and A
- living with shadows
- soil erosion
- wait for no one
- The great sin
- The Art you cannot own.
- When The Light Goes Out
-
▼
March
(28)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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