-

Sitting in My Garden
The sun is warm on my neck. The wind is still chilly, coming down from mountain tops still covered in snow. The smell of dry earth is like a parched well, longing for rain. It’s a strange combination. When the wind dies down, the sun stings the back of my neck. When the wind picks…
-

Week 2 Update: I was Constipated
The project I had chosen for week 1 of my 42nd year was a creative non-fiction essay on smoking. It went well and I finished it on time. The article might not be as good as I was hoping but I did finish it. I don’t know if I’ll just publish it on my blog…
-

Oblivion
Lying on the bedjust waiting for the day to endA lonely ember in my handreminding me all that I pretend Smoke rising aimlesslyto meet my dreams at the ceilingMy heart is still beatingthough hopelessly devoid of any feeling I close my eyesand imagine that nothing existsbut even in oblivionmy temptations are hard to resist Only…









