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, February 18, 2005
Baraka...
I would rather swing through the trees of an Ewok village rather than a Wookie one, because as a guest of the Ewoks,I would probably be able to push myself around more.
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