Sonnet 5

I’ve long been fascinated by the sonnet. The awkward three stanza arrangement. The sing-songy feel but the absense of too strong a rhyme. I’ve written a few, and I’ve decided that I’m going to post some of them here. Despite “sonnet” actually stemming from the term “sonetto,” meaning short song,

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Project X

I searched with my good eye and turned to the side, “This train isn’t leaving – your grandmother lied.” It’s pure like an iceburg (but just half as wide) and cutting the onions Penelope cried. You drank from the carton and toed through the tide, reclining the seat back, enjoying

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Writer’s Block

I used to write. Fiction: stories, poems, and the like, but I mean music. I used to write lots of music. I wrote about a million songs before college, but the first real song I remember writing and writing down was a song called “Angel” back in college. It took

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Writer's Block

I used to write. Fiction: stories, poems, and the like, but I mean music. I used to write lots of music. I wrote about a million songs before college, but the first real song I remember writing and writing down was a song called “Angel” back in college. It took

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60 Days

60 Daysa poem by AS In 60 days the sun will shine, the bitter cold here, left behindI rearrange my daily parts – a chapter ends, a new one starts Who knows what tales lay ahead as I move on down there insteadI slowly filter out my wares and organize

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Boo Hoo.

So no one uses this weblog anymore. Except me. And Heidi – a little bit. The novelty wore off, I guess. But it’s okay. I’m still going to use it for myself. I make myself laugh sometimes when I read the stupid crap I write. Sometimes, I’m embarassed I wrote

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