there is a special i don’t know what exactly about texas dirt the way it stings your face already raw from a merciless sun the hot wind howling it makes a man onery coiled to strike the faintest rattle then venom and scales contemplating the vastness of existence while captive in an expanse of insistence […]
a goat farm surrounded by mesquite across the highway from an indian restaurant combination tire shop forests of fiberglass windmills like white thorns on the side of squaw mountain as jacksboro looms in the distance the worn yellow brick inscribed with 1899 proudly displayed in a snapshot taken from the parking lot of the dollar […]
the full gray arteries eventually spill themselves out into the openness of texas after so long snaking through the filth of dallas to the west running over the waves of the hubbard reservoir as if snatched from the lone star transplanted elsewhere the red clay tiles on false pink stucco signals the cabana impossibilities of […]
and i am back in texas a week of georgia peaches and in depth classes pertaining to the last thing i care to learn a week of hotel living and strangers that became a family of misfits a week of new friends, of jay the instructor barely able to contain his laughter as i disrupt […]
Mike's Manic Word Depot 