by pbsartist | May 30, 2021 | OPENstudio
the margins are grey and forever in question, but somehow, you still know where your edges show up this is why sometimes you choose to walk the boundary lines within your own mind to each day rise and remain just there in the acreage provided for you at no cost when...
by pbsartist | May 25, 2021 | OPENstudio
‘What is time itself, dear friend?What is the sea where hours float? Am I daft, or is it true there’s no such thing as hours past and other hours still to pass, but all of them instead are all at once and never gone? Is there no time lost that ever was? Is...
by pbsartist | May 18, 2021 | OPENstudio
The Elms towering overhead against the bright crystal sky I had no idea that had so much to say so much noise to bring to my ears, giving me this new sense of life.
by pbsartist | May 18, 2021 | OPENstudio
‘It is injurious to the mind as well as to the body to be in one place and always surrounded by the same circumstances. A species of thick clothing slowly grows about the mind, and the pores are choked, little habits become a part of existence, and by degrees...
by pbsartist | May 16, 2021 | OPENstudio
can the pain of a thing leave its talon mark in my skin the way the nail has left a scar on my palm upturned to the light? Healing is not an easy thing for the spirit left challenged to go on with some part of herself torn open sealed shut scar tissue closed over...
by pbsartist | May 16, 2021 | OPENstudio
I’ve been trying to work my way into Sylvia Plath after believing a biographer’s argument that she (Sylvia) wasn’t the tragic suicidal she’s made out to be but 5 poems in, Sylvia’s words on paper like lines of a death march. I can not...
