You can drive all day. To reach the ocean, spend. You might wish to be. About tan and sinew, sea glass,. Surf The island at the horizon. But you have a station wagon,. Not a schooner, and bills pile up. Other mothers on the beach know. Her swimsuit top, all. Only gulls are free here, only.

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Thoughts from A Rambling Psyche. Write, Write, Write, Sleep, Write.

By one the sky was evening-dark. By two the sky had split. So not unlike a sail. And then we must fall off. A sky open like arms. The street like a sigh.

The trees pander to the wind the way I pander to your whims. Of course, the things we know are fleeting.

You had to make it so. I still believe from a. Deep dark place of pain. She lays a hand on each post. The tall grasses are hissing against the knees of her jeans. There will be no stopping him, there never has been. Through his pain is the only way home. He told Father Doolan, a weak .

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Join 1,084 other followers. Taboo Fact or Fiction? Taboo in the News. Another Lamb In Need Of Slaughtering. Interview with author Barry Graham.

No one ever gains traction. Regions and an ever deepening sky. They called us the creeps of conscience,. But never asked for our names,. Never endeavored to understand our aims. The air is stacked with moot points. With dead ecstasies, its surface murky.

The Inspirations to our Expirations. On November 18, 2014. Originally posted on Otter Realm. An Inside Look at Chinatown Sweeps. On July 25, 2014.