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.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Malone Shoots Fellow Hunter...
It sucks to be stuck
in a body
and not
be able
to just float around freely
like some kind of
creative Santa Claus
Some writers
are content
to treat the Internet
like sooty chimneys
but I can’t do this anymore
I can’t do the once a year thing
can’t do the whenever I get around to it thing
I am not a good writer
I am tolerable at best
you get the discounted coupon’s amount versus the overall cost
I am last year’s Tsunami
I am Katrina
I am slippery mudslides
I am city-leveling earthquakes
I am Nino
Nina
The Pinta
Fresca Soda
The SATAN Maria
I am Red Tides and methane emissions
I am Carbon Monoxide poisoning and Oxygen Bars combined
I am everything that killed the dinosaurs
I am the inevitable Avian Human Flu
My mind is the reverse SETI
I will constantly be searching for intelligent life at home in my brain
I want to NOT be the light that burns twice as bright burning half as long
I want to be the result of constantly splitting atoms
ALL THE TIME
I’m getting there
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