Reluctantly, Ive decided to share a couple of pages from my sketchbook where I keep my not so very good
Help me. Writer’s block sets in slowly and as unpredictably as does productive bursts of semi-genius. Rare is the latter,
I’m spinning plates at
Where food arrives and then doesn’t.
Cats black run out the front gate
Arriving white at the back door.
Finish eating peacefully, with love your wife and not wife.
Her note scratched on the back of a non payable check:
Make sure to do the mopping up of everything on your plate,
With white toast, or with nothing but your tongue.
No ones looking at you anymore
Anachronisms come built with a kill switch.
Schrödinger typed the menu in mimeograph blue
And we lift our morning quiz up to light our eyes
With the power of copies, copies, copies,
Exhausted by breath excused for the whispers “How does she do it? What does it look like?” Talk of cures and tinctures and dragons tails.