Activity stream for all registered members at Mythic Scribes Forums.
skip.knox posted a new portfolio entry.
It was not the white fire across the pole
nor trumpets above the desert,
but a falling away—...
Let death come to me in mid-stride, while I am occupied with other matters.
Let my obituary be...
She is deafened by the sound of her own opinions.
They echo and rattle between the walls.
When I was twenty, ten years was half my whole life.
When I was forty, they were just another...
In the slow stride of galaxies is heard
the pulse of countless veins: