March, the Death of Winter

Some thoughts on the loose ends of winter: Remnants that scatter. Swept out. Soon to be forgotten. Bared by the persistent cold prove too fragile to stand, neither whole, nor in any semblance of form. A relentless wind, whipping panic, freezing each and every protuberance. Removing the timid, Exposing all that is meager. There is…Read more March, the Death of Winter

Lines and Divisions

Single lines can be strummed together a whole, humming in repetitions a chorus reverberating long after a source can be traced. Single lines can cut, dealing out pain in shivers and slivers, incisive, unrelenting, dividing tediously every in-between of the once placid. Single lines can rise-up, up towards the light, reach out furtive tendrils, see…Read more Lines and Divisions