Month: January 2018
Needing a walk, as always. But, needing the fog more than anything. Even more than my beloved vines. […]
Tired of the thinking, the planning, the profuse and diluted ‘what if’. ‘Nother pic I find, solitary leaf, […]
The drive over here, in my mood, thinking of what to write, why not just have a jam […]
Care for self, as vines and wine are cared for. Something I ate last night, not agreeing with […]
Up. Thinking about a lot, this morning, sipping the coffee I had the sense to make last night […]
Me here in mirror Meddle in fiddle, peddle more pulse Quick or I’ll be sick Pour more, my […]
…I’m told to condense more, consolidate in the metaphoric bottle— no, vineyard row, like when in the morning […]
At the Vine Street Starbucks, one of my older but still frequented writing spots, stops. Cinnamon-raison bagel and […]
And my first thought, “So what?” Opened the Merlot I bought from St. Francis the other day, looking […]