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Monthly Archives: November 2014
2014 #261
there is a gaze who refuses westward glance cessation. Ideas insisting they generate fall snug within unrighteous territory so let us give sigh-rich thanks to whoever inserted an acorn in the fertile soil in a time a wayward wordsmith would’ve … Continue reading
2014 #260
I am no vivisection fan however if I knew the capuchin whose brains were being slowly scrambled had in a former life written academic tripe for philosophic vermin, I’d ask about a spare scalpel
2014 #259
from this table in the dining room I get a taste on this rainy day through the window of tall oaks painted for a jigsaw picture puzzle by an impressionist devotee who surely spent hours and hours end to end … Continue reading
2014 #258
and the greedy linguist lives to kill time until the language arts classic drapery parts for the hour’s rivulet analysis as well as cursory ethics lessons on sacrifice and the value of holding an often hot tongue where it was … Continue reading
2014 #257
Harbor is always found inside the envelope filet flaps of the angel lounging on the edge whose arms invite and legs open so the gold of her cleansed yet dirty curls emanates glint while church chimes enhance scent and flavor … Continue reading
it’s just hard
that it is hard offers the spoon of consolation which won’t power any engine longer than around two hundred dead oak leaves or the bringing the two hundred dead oak leaves together so they’ll be forced to go by a … Continue reading
2014 #256
it isn’t hibernation itself though barrels of bourbon at hand while solving a puzzle bequeaths appeal of a snug cloak but it is the emergence from hibernation or on second thought hibernation emergence equates to around a half of a … Continue reading
2014 #255
Ghost had a problem with honesty. Permitting a self-admittance in regards to its Rose who was not its Rose any more than it was Hope’s Rose, as a wizened sage’s whittle rained shavings to a ground browner than last week, … Continue reading
2014 #254
Ghost comes to see if Rose is hanging on to the few sunshine threads that dangle and closes the closest organs ghosts have to eyes, supposes a hope looks down a sloping nose that’s never known snow, never whiffed sin, … Continue reading
the real reason
the real reason for the brief absence is due to the usual; doubts, all the old doubts, and a nagging inside goes on almost all the time, it just sometimes nags so lightly it may as well not nag at … Continue reading
Timmy the Scribbler 