My Thistled Thoughts
Poetry // Prose // Personal Passages
“What a phantasmagoria the mind is and meeting-place of dissemblables! At one moment we deplore our birth and state and aspire to an ascetic exaltation; the next we are overcome by the smell of some old garden path and weep to hear the thrushes sing.”
— Virginia Woolf, Orlando: A Biography
Latest from the Blog
Pauline
no wild stallion could compare
to that grey-eyed girl…
Seventh Generation Wake-Up Call
this distortion
was learned,
ingrained
The Jam Files #8 : A Little Life Update
When too many bad days in a row occur, I start to wonder if this is just how it’s going to be from now on.
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Thistle Thoughts 