Tag Archives: writing

Listen, listen. Ear to the door and you can hear the heavy bass and slow, nearly-non-existant drums of something Top 40 Generic; she plays it while she lays on the floor and looks for galaxies in the texture of the … Continue reading →

And within the barren fields of Winter, there was, among the grass gone brown from the cold, from the dying sun, a line of trees that stood against the horizon. Tall and thick-limbed, overgrown with gnarls and twists, and they … Continue reading →

Resignation. Such an indelicate word for the most fragile of moments. It speaks of surrender and acceptance, of diminishing and death. In some ways, it is fitting — and in some, not at all. He has always been a ghost … Continue reading →

Cab rides, bus rides, train rides, subways. Walking the street, the malls, the shops and businesses. Every now and then he even walked himself right into someone’s front door and had a look around, curiosity compelling him to seek out … Continue reading →

It was bitterness and heat, it was tears and fire, it was blue eyes and gunsmoke, black gloves and confusion and rage. I’ve had a hundred thousand dreams before this one, remembered and journaled them and there’s this archetype that … Continue reading →