Through that window you see another bird rising, unlabeled, unwanted, yet noticed. A limb’s last leaf. The boy’s breath. Like the morning after your father died, when temperature didn’t register and heat shallowed through the morning’s end. Still you shivered. Glass. Wind. Night’s body. How to calibrate nothing’s grace? Take notes. Trace its echo. Try.
“Bottom Falling” was published in Into the Void in October 2016, and is included in my chapbook, From Every Moment a Second.
I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...
View more posts
