First the table. Then the chairs. Then the rug that's down the hall. Over couch cushions and behind the drapes, sending technicolor signals to the neighbors next door. Wedged between the refrigerator and the stove, muted and sparkling; is the red dot just out of reach.
These moments piled on, adding upLike a tumbleweed of dust motes (a visibly invisible production) Coupled with gravity, subtilty increasing the span between now & thenAdding another to the list of improvements to make Like time, this listgoes onwards
The glass doors opened.Swoosh of air; friendly chime, (I remember a time before now) He greeted me sternly. It was cold in the shop, you the warmth radiating from memory uncurled coils of rope Whispering against the floor.
Firstly, I don't have the twitter. Blue bird sounds too much like blue balls and the association is much like the endless feed- excruciatingly painful. That being said, there are amazing bits of whimsical insight. Here for your amazement and joy, is a gift within a gift; enjoy. "The Night Before Christmas 2020" by K.... Continue Reading →
Nearly everyone supposes themselves to be good, the exception being, the worst think of themselves as much better than they are and the best think of themselves as much worse than they are. Then there are the correct, which think of themselves as they actually are regardless of how good or bad, but they nearly... Continue Reading →