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.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
Man, th lv tht i got
whn my insidsxplded
in thrty mnts
whn i wsz in th hzptl bd
and iwz n mrphne
and iwz s scrd
i gz m nt so malone
whr wru bfr idied?
Where were you before I died?
while my insides were imploding
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