freshly cut flowers standing in a vase the sounds of vivaldi dancing softly on the air her light steps upon bare feet gliding across the room. flores recién cortadas de pie en un jarrón los sonidos de vivaldi bailando suavemente en el aire sus pasos ligeros con los pies descalzos deslizamiento través de la habitación. […]
they seek to tell me what to feel to think to write as if it is their words they are not. if they are anyone’s they belong to her my muse. the woman that i write all of this to for in honor of in service to. they circle around my words like crows picking […]
today starting now in my time zone at least it is the day to celebrate the birth of a muse she doesn’t celebrate it herself but i do see ever since i blindly stumbled upon her tapping my cane in front of me peddling pedantic odes her words opened my eyes made me want to […]
Mike's Manic Word Depot 