On the meridian of time, there is no injustice: there is only the poetry of motion creating the illusion of truth and drama.
ToC, H. Miller

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

i find myself forced to write poetry; pen to paper is to press down on the blade, but i seem to thrive on pain. why do happy lines elude me?

at 5:47 PM

1 comment:

Redblur63 said...

Keep writing. Sometimes it's just a need to put things in another place. If it's on paper, then it's not inside you anymore. :-)

May 31, 2007

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