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The cluttered cavern of silence
My mouth is stuffed with shredded cloth. This silence, these feelings that I am bound not to speak, they are not without a signifier. To become one who writes, I must walk again across the chasm beneath my words, confront the implicit idea that I write because I have something valid to say about the way the world works, that I am not a mere ( Read more... ) -
(Untitled)
If the tumbling colors recede from behind your eyes as they close at night
If the back roads don't seem worth detouring over
If strangers don't stop you to smile and say hellos in the grocery
Be warned.
Don't let your soul die don't let your soul die don't let your soul die.
Proceed immediately to the workshop, the deertrail, the highway one. Recovery ( Read more... ) -
Umpqua River
I swear upon a grave I cannot find ( Read more... ) -
Ferngully
I find my life overrun with fruits and vegetables, happily. I am now gainfully employed at the Limbo, where I fluff up, sample and sell fruits and vegetables to everybody I know, plus a few other people. When not working, I have been spending practically all my time in the garden, where I have planted the following: Lettuce, Mesclun Mix, Micro ( Read more... ) -
(Untitled)
the saffron flowers are shining
the sun is cautiously blooming
my garden is sprouting
spring has come again to the world
maybe I too can shed the shroud of dark earth -
the long exile
For so long I have been meaning to write, meaning to examine the things in my heart and my head. Since I've written last I've explored one of the greatest rivers on the planet, fallen in love, travelled through a whole new continent, sold the family home in Astoria, worked sixteen hour days with wine and good company, and so on and so on. How is it ( Read more... ) -
and it couldn't be sold for silver or gold
I love listening to country cause its heart's in the right place ( Read more... ) -
i m felix da housecat on da prowl
isn't it funny how at the last minute I always know my shit and crank it out?
two more nights like this and I will even be able to look Paul in the eye when I turn it in.
knock on wood and such. it could still get fucked.
when I'm not acting like a baby it feels pretty good to work.
fucking renn fayre on friday bitches
bring yer champagne! -
spring spring spring again the birds are telling me
I'm so tired but not of ( Read more... ) -
36 hours before the draft deadline...
The most recent save of my thesis just randomly turned into 507 pages of gobbleygook ( Read more... )