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.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Hello, Mr. Poetry Bastard...
and so what do you do? you try you try to make it better but nothing happens the gods on Blog Olympus don't get back to you rain fire silence are all happening at once now that I'm forgotten
Go ahead, tell me how brilliant I am!
ReplyDeleteHoly shitballs. Check your email, boz.
ReplyDelete