Today, I spent a great deal of my time reading up on Marcel Proust. He's said to be the quintessential 20th century writer, spending his life writing volumes of his novel that no one reads. "In search of lost time" really resonated with me.
I return to writing in stream of consciousness for this poem, and I'm surprised by the results. I would love to hear feedback, or interpretations for this one. Thanks!
When you don't feel sufficient.
I couldn't sleep, so I wrote this.
A poem I wrote for a friend
A first attempt at story writing
A poem that is well paired with nude by Radiohead