poem
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The stones by the river- where we once sat, and dipped our feet, in the cooling stream- have been dry for a while. It makes me wonder if you were a dream. Wrote a lot of poems during training. No access to a computer yet, so I’ll post them when I finally return home. Found
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I joined the site back in 2012 when I finally started posting my writing, no matter how good or bad online, and now, about 2 years exactly later, the website is shutting down. This website has been inextricably linked to many of my memories, both the good and the bad ones, over the past
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The same-old, age-old, all-too-familiar facial movement: it’s like wearing a pair of old jeans. Same same but different. Likewise, the smile’s stretched out, stretched out to reach the ends of the world, and the teeth are bared- an impromptu dentist inspection, files of recruits falling in, trying to stay still, stay tidy, et cetera et cetera
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I. “I know what I want But I don’t know where it is.” I’ll keep looking Around in circles of dust Left behind, in the afterglow And the aftermath. “I know what I want But I’m afraid to ask.” II. I wanted to feel it again. I want to feel the familiar Movement: wrist
ugly stage 