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 23, 2002
Friggin' Christmas...
It's coming up and I am NOT prepared. Financially or mentally.
I've got one question, though.
How's my girlfriend going to wrap up
the pet monkey that she's getting me?
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