Have added a new page which I named My Miscellany. I am hoping I will be able to give permanent residence to the things that capture my attention in a quasi-glossary style format. Hopefully, I will be disciplined enough to maintain it on a regular basis.
All my journal writings, written with a fountain pen. I think about how all it would take is some water and it would be all gone. Even if the pages were dried and the actual journal salvaged, all that would be left is blue and black ink blots. A Rorschach test that once revealed snippets of my life.
A poem from my “Nothing but Nonsense” period (September, 1997 – March, 1998). Tell me what day this is. I’ve been sleeping for too long. The wrinkles in my pants won’t come out. The bad taste in my mouth reminds me of her. And, this hair surely is my doom. …
A poem from my “Nothing but Nonsense” period (September, 1997 – March, 1998) Starry eyes have dropped their rain and yet that doesn’t mean they’ll never leave. Wounded hands are singing, spitting blood and eating salt, trying to make up for the pain that has been taken away. Busted bones …
A poem from my “Nothing but Nonsense” period (September, 1997 – March 1998) Jesus was a-sitting on his rock when the serpent asked the time. He answered, “go ask L.” So, she came a-walking, a-moving throwing all equilibrium for a loop. I was sitting on a dock pretending to be …
Seneca said, “No slavery is more disgraceful than one which is self-imposed.” Remember that, when you say yes to things that take you away from your family when you should be there with them. Remember that, when you say yes to your vices instead of the virtues to which you …
A poem from my “Nothing but Nonsense” period (September, 1997 – March 1998). Forty-five cents is all it takes to embark on this ship. But, before we leave, are you sure you want to get on with me? We won’t be stopping soon and guns aren’t allowed. Bothering the rabbits …
A poem from my “Nothing but Nonsense” period (September, 1997 – March, 1998). Another word. Another war. Let’s go! Everyone wants. Everyone lies. You don’t have to tell me the score. I already know. It’s a wild kingdom, after all. There’s a little boy headed home. There’s a little boy …
A poem from my “Nothing but Nonsense” period (September, 1997 – March, 1998). It occurred one night, but I’m not sure when. I was lost inside, looking for a door which would lead to Hell. It occurred one day, but I couldn’t tell you which. It was firey outside and …
1 After a short absence, her lipstick is renewed, and I can’t help but notice her. 2 A mystery exposed, my eyes make her button her shirt, with a smile. 3 From the moment I see you, to the moment I awake, a kiss.
