I am Jane Goodall's Tanzanian monkeys typing about bananas.
My fingers are Santa's little helpers.
My hope is a sporadic rainfall - yet a torrential downpour in all creative environments.
I am Theseus, unspooling golden yarn.
Sisyphus, sweating uphill.
Bukowski,
scribbling away
in rooming houses.
A river always flowing.
I am the nightmare of stagnancy and a God of Imagination.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Deus Ex Machina Piece Of Crap...
Writing will be infrequent due to my computer always shutting off by itself whenever I try to start it up. I guess I need to have it looked at. Geez, take the TV instead.
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