That Colossal Wreck - Bio

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear --
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.'

- Percy Bysshe Shelley, Ozymandias
The Bus Ride Home 9/28/05
The bus rolled up After class, After discussion of Socrates, The bus rolled up At last. A man inside, A black man inside Ranted obnoxiously, Sometimes furiously. Another crazy, Another drug addict, Another annoyance For my way home. “Sorry to yak your ear...
(0 notes, 497 views)


Of Montreal 9/12/05
This was an essay for my ENG 101 class where we had to write about who we thought was the voice of our generation in response to an essay that...
(0 notes, 384 views)


try to guess what this one is about (no title yet) 9/6/05
Tension on the first vertabrae Moves up through the occipital bone, Parietal, Frontal, Orbital, Nasal, The zygomatic arch smiles, Maxilla, Mandible, Lips... Gently, Stronger now, Meta Carpals are ingesting The Ilium The Greater Trocanter, The Femur, The Ishium. The Coccyx. Moving Moving Moving Contracting muscles Are Tearing at bones. Bones Bones Nerve cells Are Exploding. Subcutaneous sensations. Esophagus...
(0 notes, 345 views)


Stoned in the Back Seat 9/6/05
This is the beginning of a little bit of prose that I am writing (haven't done prose in a long time) I will probably post the rest of it...
(0 notes, 343 views)


The Dance (working title) 9/6/05
I watch you dancing on the streets, At parties, At home, Never quite at home, But dancing nonetheless. A cigarette in your hand, Long, Slender, And bland. You gesture with the smoke, And I watch your fingers Choke. I watch you...
(0 notes, 337 views)


The Mountain 9/6/05
The Mountain Blue, Grey, Green, Orange. I sit beneath the streetlight As it glows Beneath the tree As it grows Beneath the clouds As they flow Beneath the sky As it goes. A cricket sings, And I dream Of a mountain That touches the stars As it...
(0 notes, 351 views)


27 Entries
Entry Date
Little Old Man2/28/05
Essay on Steinbeck's Short Story, The Chrysanthemums2/28/05
A Rebuttal to T.S. Eliot's Essay on Hamlet2/28/05
A Reqiuem for Sentiment (working title)2/27/05
no title yet...10/2/04
I Can't Tell if My Writing Sucks Anymore (AKA untitled)8/1/04
The Ancient Gallery7/20/04
Monotone Frustrations6/21/04
The Red Bage of Courage: A Short Essay6/17/04
The Museum in Winter at Sunset6/3/04
Macro6/3/04
The March of the Clouds (Canto III)3/5/04
The March of the Clouds (Canto II)2/14/04
The March of the Clouds (Canto I)2/14/04
Obscurities of a Room1/23/04
Back 21 Entries
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