writer’s block
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like endless rain into a paper cup
I can’t write. I don’t know understand the struggle. Yeah, there’s the whole not having written anything creative in ages, but it’s not like I haven’t been writing at all during this hiatus. There’s this blog. There’s work writing. There’s my journal. There’s writing my short intros during poetry readings at [redacted]. Yet, here I Continue reading
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A short post complaining that I’m blocked
It’s happened again. I’m stuck. Deep-in-the-ditch, sloshing-in-mud stuck. On my lap, rests my copy of A Clockwork Orange. I bought it because a friend of mine suggested it. It’s been on my to-read list for a few years now, I just never came around to it. And there is. Two chapters in and I want Continue reading
Chapin City Blues 