In every household, there is a battle,
of that, I have never had any doubt:
one that carries in all of the chattel
and one that carries all of it back out…
Author: Matt Larson
With my first book, 4000s by 40, released this fall, I am fulfilling a lifelong dream of writing, and am excited to continue the journey of storytelling with future projects—so much so that the day after I published 4000s by 40, I began my next work.
Much of my inspiration comes from nature. My early love for the ocean, found on the South Shore of Massachusetts, has transitioned into a deep passion for the mountains here in New Hampshire, and I wanted to share that with my first book.
If you’d like to connect or have any inquiries, you can reach out to me at [email protected]. I’m also on Instagram and Facebook at wanderingmatt8. Happy reading!
On the Cusp
I can feel it.
Not the coming of fame
or some major accomplishment.
No societal achievement
that no one else could tame.
You won’t see it.
It’s taken years.
And required more time
than I ever thought one would need.
Never knowing if I’d be freed
to continue the climb.
Clear of the tears.
No, I don’t mind.
That when we celebrate
no one will ever really know.
That’s not what brings you from the low
up to a brand new slate.
Back to the line.
It’s from the past.
But also waiting there
like a buoy behind the mist.
There is no way I could resist
pulling it up to share.
Alive at last.
Weekend Thought: Mandatory Year of Civil Service?
Something is adrift, isn’t it? Too many parents – good parents – seem to be complaining about, or joking about, their children’s lack of respect. Too many teachers are having to deal with idiots performing “devious licks” or worse. And while the schools have their hands full keeping kids from ripping out toilets, on the…
That First Apartment
Inside is the vague smell of dust
but it fades with conversation,
and despite the overt presence
of old, unwanted furniture,
the noisy fridge and broken stove,
waves of warm voodoo flick the air.
And when Boston’s winter nights seep
through the windows and paper walls,
marked with laughter in lasting ink,
the furnace will clang and spit hot,
raging against an enemy
that we no longer have to fight.