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Bad Writing (Made Better): November 2009

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Bad Writing (Made Better). Monday, November 23, 2009. This Town XIII (two days -. My name is today,. I'll be gone tomorrow. His meticulous nature, -. Two sheets of loose leaf. The other day waited for the bus. One last time,. Never looked back,. Forward into the uncertain,. Leaving this town,. Collecting space, -. She stepped out of the fire,. Burnt ashes in her eyes. The embers of her heart. Blown away by the passing wind,. This place let me go,. I let it go so long. As i walk by, growling.

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Bad Writing (Made Better): October 2009

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Bad Writing (Made Better). Tuesday, October 27, 2009. Fell asleep with book in hand). History and poetry coexist. A river across and through into and out of. Poetry begins and history waits. Reshaping the old maps. Crossing out the new ones. In time as time always does. Poetry and history collide. An accident occurs unnoticed. People wait on the margins. These dots do not. Connect to make shapes. In between falls to the wayside. Waiting to be written as poetry hides. Monday, October 26, 2009.

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Bad Writing (Made Better): September 2009

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Bad Writing (Made Better). Monday, September 28, 2009. I'll tear this town. Missing lines of communication,. Shards of glass,. Across scattered landscapes,. I respond with plastic thoughts,. Too lazy to carry the right amount of words. Thursday, September 24, 2009. The Long Poem: A Precursor. Without a name, nameless. For the moment, a moment. It isn't done,. Monday, September 7, 2009. Towards a Mill: Early Morning. A stiff breeze,. Cold against frost,. To a familiar place. Metal and plastic, exits.

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Bad Writing (Made Better): (finding a dead cat in the morning before work)

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Bad Writing (Made Better). Monday, October 26, 2009. Finding a dead cat in the morning before work). It didn't just happen. Before it could really. Nor did it wait around. For the right moment. Drug it off the road. Put it there to rest. These things don't just. We don't stumble upon them. Assume that they actually begin. We go back and create. A story to make sense. So we feel okay,. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Prince George, B.C., Canada. First you ought to find me, then you can begin to know me.

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Bad Writing (Made Better): December 2009

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Bad Writing (Made Better). Tuesday, December 15, 2009. Waited for the bus in the. Too cold street, 7:00 am,. A dim reminder, cracking. Trees, crunch of snow. Packed into ice, 1. Meadow, the few cars that. Pass, all focused on the. Road ahead, bus arrives,. I enter, cold and waiting. Sunday, December 6, 2009. Motionless, a fear,. Unsure of self,. I wanted to tell. You how i was. To tell you where. Don't know if i'm ready,. The world is too big. For my small hands,. Forign ground, a wild. B/c i have a lot.

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Bad Writing (Made Better): This Town XII

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Bad Writing (Made Better). Monday, September 28, 2009. I'll tear this town. Missing lines of communication,. Shards of glass,. Across scattered landscapes,. I respond with plastic thoughts,. Too lazy to carry the right amount of words. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Prince George, B.C., Canada. First you ought to find me, then you can begin to know me. View my complete profile. Writing Way North Writing Way North Writing Way. You Can't See The Forest For the Blog: Reflections on a well-ruined world.

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Bad Writing (Made Better): January 2010

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Bad Writing (Made Better). Sunday, January 3, 2010. New Blog (Sort of). This is not a poem,. The poem is elsewhere,. Look here no more,. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). Prince George, B.C., Canada. First you ought to find me, then you can begin to know me. View my complete profile. Writing Way North Writing Way North Writing Way. You Can't See The Forest For the Blog: Reflections on a well-ruined world. Dear Poets: Upcoming (Gulf) Islands Tour, what my friends have to say, and life is magic.

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Bad Writing (Made Better): (i don't understand...

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Bad Writing (Made Better). Sunday, December 6, 2009. Motionless, a fear,. Unsure of self,. I wanted to tell. You how i was. To tell you where. Don't know if i'm ready,. The world is too big. For my small hands,. Forign ground, a wild. B/c i have a lot. The look in her eyes,. The long of her smile. I don't want to be here,. This uncertainty, this obscurity,. The way i feel. To the ground at. Love is a choice. To choose, make. Find what i'm looking for. To see what's right. Called you in the afternoon,.