8:45PM…
Check in. Made a fair amount of grats today. Will count publishing stash, and the novel will certainly have decent subsidization from the poetry vending. Sipping an ’11 Chard from my sister’s...
View ArticleDrone in
Something tells me to stop, but then I want to run another lap, that’s my curse, my tercet burst, but the dirt, always flying, into my left eye, never the right, well alright, that’s what’s to be sung,...
View ArticleBefore it happens
…The day. The crazy. And it always is. Little Kerouac upstairs, asleep to his mama’s right. Was going to wake them, but no way did this writer have the heart for so. Technically, I’m “behind...
View ArticleLocked Palate
No run after work, but one tomorrow morning, I’m hoping. Have to. Have to make running a religion as writing is. Yes, I could run the ‘half’ tomorrow if I had to, even after the Chard and Rockpile...
View Article5/12/14.
Novel ends one week from today. And I’ll still be There, on the clock. But the semester ends with a book. And the poetry collection which I will send to print this week, at some point. If not...
View ArticleArticle 4
4PM. And this laptop’s driving me to murder, or thinking of murdering it. Up from a little-over-an-hour nap. Coffee, right, brewed here. Not sure if I’m running tonight as I may have to get little...
View ArticleTasting the Room
There was a medium wind, with the earth airborne, jumping into all his senses. There, he was describing the wind and morning as he was forced to, the wine. Today had to be different, he thought. No...
View Article5/15/14
Up at 4, and he couldn’t go back to sleep. No coffee, had to retrieve at store. And he’d be pouring in the drained strain he found himself in. The semester ended in almost exactly 96 hours. 95...
View ArticleAfter Dreaming, During Coffee
Jack slept all night, thankfully, and I’m ready for the chapter. Have this idea for a wine business, but I don’t want to write it here. Don’t want to hex or contaminate possibilities. But just so...
View Article5/17/14
After my closing argument in getting little Kerouac to his crib, with his band of gazing furred cohorts. While giving it, repeating, “okay buddy, it’s time for bed…”, I couldn’t wait to get to these...
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