For I have known them all already, known them all:— T.S. Eliot
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
Category Archives: Poetry
Okay, so sleep was extra mean to me yesterday. In the morning, I napped, but faded in and out a few times (and as many people will tell you, a broken nap is nowhere near as good as a whole … Continue reading
…Synthesis is a weird thing; in my brain, it's either working or it isn't. And I'm realizing that writing fiction is the thing that makes it work, that greases those cogs and applies the force to move that particular machine. … Continue reading
For every farmer, There is such a thing as One Tornado Too Many. My grandmother prayed To the famous Nine Nails, Spent the last family dollar On a candle, for hope. She prayed for rain, Probably harder than most of … Continue reading