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You can’t say “write like magic”

It isn’t right to be so tragic

And Nob Hill hip

And Q-Town super fresh

So write like magic despite the tetherships of the world

I ache to conjure up all the words I need for literary architecture

Why doesn’t my mind simply bleed?

It’s a spring dream these days

Warm in the guts

And people look at me like I’m crazy

But they’re not wrong

I’m always rehearsing scenarios in my head

A little theater played across the stage of my mind

And sometimes I feel like a vending machine cafeteria

I suddenly got scared about something

Life mostly

Thinking back to Tom Petty days

Free falling in a mall

Then flying, floating, watching, waiting, approaching

Tasting, running, tumbling to Alaska

And now all is white and cold

All alone, wilderness

Ice, shelter, fire, water, food

Maple crème sandwich cookies by the blaze

Suddenly alone and broken and laughing

A hungry heart and soul begs for mercy

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My new book is now available for purchase: The Apocalypse Pipe. Available in both e-book and print editions! Thanks for reading and supporting independent writers.