Dried Ink

THE MAN

I remember a time I spoke with my father. It was a cool evening and he was in the middle of choosing between a nap or watching the news. I asked him “Daddy, where do babies come from?”. He peered down at me, confused, and then looked around as if searching for an emergency exit.… Continue reading THE MAN

Dried Ink

Writer’s Block

One too many voices, one too many words One too many feelings, one too many thoughts Clouded I be, but longing to see Hopeful for light, yet darkness loves me   An avalanche of clues, but still so lost Guided by shadows to nothing at all Empty excitement, showers of dust I pray for air,… Continue reading Writer’s Block