I post a bit of everything, poetry, ramblings, short fiction, novel sections, in my blog, An Arguable Truth, easily arguably, too much. I keep up with the Journal-Writing page to aggregate and find a place for pieces as I shed them from the archive. It’s also a neat space to post older work, bits of novels, short fiction, ancient journal entries, scribbles from the margins of wire spiraled college notebooks, anything really. I do this because A I enjoy the work, I love each and every form of stories. And B, well, nothings coming to me. Thanks for reading!
Garden. And another thing. Gardening. When growing once weeds, be sure to weed them. Oh no. And dairy goats. Five of those. And counting. Kids with cries unknown while we grapple with our own. Caterwauling. Cat or walling. Equally intrigued by both. Enough hens to cover a family in eggs. Neighborhood game rooster crashes for…
Home doesn’t really exist for men like me. Too many nights wrapped up tight in backpacks. Too fond of the percussive collaboration between a walking stick and my two let loose feet
against an angsty planet. I’m wasted. I’ve wasted every bit of attachment potential on the people who I love