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.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Pitfall...
I am writing so much on work-related things that aren't The Great American Novel - that my Tom Sawyer feels like it's going to Catcher In The Rye out of my To Kill A Mockingbird.
Tell me about the rabbits, George...
ReplyDelete