someone grabs and squeezes the brake on the windlass and I slide
resurrection
the rope soaks in layers of skin
blood is running down my forearms over my shoulders
but I'm saved from the mossy stones
no longer falling no longer moving
now
if only the shreds can begin to climb
slimy hand over slimy hand
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Feb
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- Yes, ordinarily I come back from a ride feeling li...
- someone grabs and squeezes the brake on the windla...
- oh, never mind.Really.Shit.(my profound apologies ...
- oh, this summer is going to be hell. I can see it...
- It's Friday!I'm going to be a good boy and work on...
- It's Saturday!I'm going to be a good boy and work ...
- Writing something poetic would feel really good ri...
- I liken my thesis to a large, half-carven oaken st...
- People are weird. And stupid.I'm going to go work...
- I was speaking to a graduate of Notre Dame Archite...
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Feb
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Paths
- tasik
- In my life of labor and endless searching for connections, I sometimes pause to muse over the people I love, the natural and artificial world around me, and the ideas that provoke my imagination or ire.
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