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,
A blue velvet bag opened by this single Movement – her hand reached Into the spaciousness above And all stars’ light unpacked, and Secreted away in drawer full of daydreams. Now the seashore glistens With the promise of night, and Eternally luminous With all the befores, And all the ever afters, Moving our millions of tears Into a single smiling river. “Goodnight my beautiful bodies,” And we fly away home, laughing.
I find all the sunshine ever shined,
Filtered through my forests, my pin pupil eyes.
And I, without permission,
Acting out against all advice –
Finally stare into the sun.