It was e.e. cummings birthday the other day. Oddly I felt more like making him a fractal than a poem. You can find that here: [link]


sidewalk chalkchildhood bright and beautiful in strokes as bold as brass a life lived at full volume and knees all stained with grasssidewalk chalk
August 2009


Falling LeavesBright birds fall from trees; silent death spectacular. Autumntime begins.Falling Leaves


Master of RavensMaster of RavensMaster of Ravens
1 My little brother is nine years old the first time I decide to kill him.
During the night, snow fell over the jagged wreckage of our land. In the morning I realize he will follow me outside if I call to him. Like an awkward-limbed colt he’ll stumble through the snowdrifts, and I can leave him to the ice and wind in the shadow of a three-walled building. No one will see me. Our father will think he has gotten lost on his own. I too will cry when they find his body. When the mourning is done, however, I will be my father's true and only son. ‘Cam,’ he will call to me, and I’
--
Some days I write those words, others they write me.
--
`DragonWinter | ~WinterSnaps
Previous PageNext Page