I’m still in the beginning stages of my life as a writer, even though I’ve been writing obsessively since I was eight. I hope to be able to link to more work, soon, but for now I can share…

See all writing related or essay-style posts here.

At the Market, 9/18/2013

Don’t you wonder
what quiet is made of–
how it
or if there really is
a sea of noise that we
are just fools to.

I wonder how long
my life will feel like this–
like a rush of great strength
flung against a rock wall.
What use is strength
in the presence of soundless stone,
miles thick?
It goes nowhere, but
bang bang bang.

I am strong enough
to kick forever–that
I am sure of now, but
who would want to?

The leaves all around us
are purpling,
burning at the edges, glowing
as the sun slips out of view.
Can’t I be like her?
Can’t I shine brilliantly and
make everything look like gold
and then vanish?

Only to be secretly
rolling forward,
beyond the horizon,
across the open sea.