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Tempus Fugit And That Was That
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Here is momentum. Here is Tabula Rasa.
Here is passage and transition and everything that sinks into the sands of time.
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Of course it has occurred to me to make that long overdue mixtape to mark the end of a decade, the ( Read more... ) -
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tell you what i'll do -
fold my sleeves and leave you be.
enjambment,
there is too much distance between this line and the next
where once upon a time there was
no need to cut and break
between words.
once / upon / a time
there did not exist wanton thoughts to
fold my sleeves
and leave you be.
FOR WHAT IT WAS WORTH.
Closing Cycles, 2009. -
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The Quiet Things That No One Ever KnowsI had waited for it to be silent again here. Waited until this journal had seemed wanting, impoverished, forgotten, like caprice had dared me to pack my bags and leave. I do not dare talk of the doing and undoing, the heaves and sighs, the slow erosions where the significance of these little things is ( Read more... ) -
Hi, been a while. I've just been Tumbl-ing.
Do you write better when you're sad? Lots of people do ( Read more... ) -
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First thing,
September 9, 2009 --
sound of rain.
Allow yourself this moment
to care not for trifles
just the pelting of wind, of water
against hard glass.
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Doodles / Scribbles
The best ones are those scattered across, forgetting the margins of ruled paper. She dwelled on the thought, somebody else's thoughts, and her hand started to twitch.It had been eons since she had, that she'd almost forgotten what her own penmanship looked like. And here were heaps of old springed notebooks from when she used to ( Read more... ) -
and they follow your cursor!
A toy. An offering to the kid in all of us:
Feed the Fish.
