The pieces have been
scattered to the wind.
Is there anything left
for those who remain?
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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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2014
(302)
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September
(27)
- The sky will always be impossibly beautiful.
- Give up everything that doesn't matter.
- The Way We Say Goodbye
- A Practical Guide to the Impractical.
- Beauty is not rare, it dares to exist in a world ...
- Realistic Expectations
- Tired Poem
- The Tired Sigh of Submission.
- The Architecture of Dreams
- At Some Point
- Movement
- Move into ecstasy Submit to the sound surroundi...
- Breakdowns
- My ABC's
- Dinosaurs in the Garden
- Rubber Ducky
- Father & Son
- You and what God?
- 2 lines
- Greed
- Fundamental Desire
- Dichotomy of Noise
- Oscillate
- Lingering Hunger
- The pieces have been scattered to the wind. Is th...
- This Business
- At My Departure
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▼
September
(27)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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