Leaving

I don't post here as much as I should. I'm busy, you know? Crazily so (but not literally).

Still writing though. Of Bloody Reflections has had a few tenative submisssions and been left to languish for a bit. I've written the opening scene of the second and concluding book, Refractions of Fire. And poems and little written things.

They tend to appear here, or in performance.

That's where I let my hair down now a days, get a little moon drunk, let slip a little of the dark.

I feel more confidant now, having had a bit more experiance and got to know those fellow poets who float around on the scene, in person or those odd glimpses online. Though it was a friend who first pushed me from public prose to revealing a secret lyrical tendency (perhaps, in all honesty, not that secret given my florid critisms. um), Moden is a wordsmith of note: pay heed.