October 3, 2005

focus on an unfocused joint, slender fingers slogging through strange wastelands of typography.
maps of mountainous menageries, lingery-lacey lakes, and superficial sand bars,
snapping and snarling, simply searing the skin of wild animal thoughts that manage to slip inot the lip of the thought and through to the cusp of the emotion that sends it to the mouth.
The pen stops and she raises her head, a safari of words are tracing around her toungue.
An enticing appitizer for a seven course novel.
a novel idea
a nobel Idea
a grand thought
a gander around the mind.
Let’s take a sled and follow the paper trail to the mountains of rejection, crumpled bits and peices
penciled words and penned out sentences
a brash smell of ink.
it’s like home.

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