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.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Baa...
baa, black sheep, Have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir, Three bags full.
One for the master, One for the dame, And one for the little boy Who lives down the lane.
Baa, baa, black sheep, Have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir...
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