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.
Friday, December 24, 2004
Or Like When I Leave The Grocery Store Without My Groceries...
Or like right now. Getting to my front door and realizing that I left my keys in my parked and still-running car.
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