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, June 02, 2014
FRED - - -
He knew that he was different. But he didn’t care. Sure,
maybe he couldn’t walk as fast as the rest of them and maybe he sometimes got
stuck and needed help but…a handicap is what you make of it.
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