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.
11/17/05
Mars...
So dry today feels like fiery chopsticks up the nose eyes like wrinkly prunes it's too bright my head is the sun my brain throbs one supernova a second my mouth is moist like compost
No comments:
Post a Comment
Comments! Your FACE is a comment!