3:18pm

Clouds loom, grey room
open blinds, noisy box.

Dust flutters, dog barks
empty house, open heart.

Day is calm, quiet, grey -
painted in an open frame.

And I draw outside the lines,
Subject in the sill of time.

Thoughts @ 1:47am

My goal as a writer would be this: I'd like to write stories unrestrained by and outside of my ego. I don't even know if that's possible. I'm not even quite sure how big my ego is. I imagine that it's like the tip of an iceberg, where I'd think to myself "Well, it's not that bad" but then if I were brave enough to take a dive down below into  those icy waters and open my eyes, there it is -- huge and unyielding. If I could get out of myself long enough, I wouldn't want to just see the bigger picture, but the biggest picture. This is my impossible goal. Truthfully, I think everyone needs one of those. Everyone needs a goal which is almost very nearly within reach, just so that we might catch a little piece of it - the tiniest thread. I wonder what one ought with a little bit of impossible. Could you imagine? 

2:52am

What you gave me made me smile,
So ordinary and so worthwhile.
Like kindness in code,
and hope incognito --
I'll store it away,
but in plain sight.
A secret.
Unknowingly uncovered.
Underlined in its sitting place.