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
I Gotta Take a Break
on hiatus
#OctPoWriMo Day 23
brother, you tried
again to leave me
and I think my stomach
has known this
for weeks
#OctPoWriMo Day 22
the tide that took
you away had a
street name
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