Occasionally something impels me to puzzle through some enigma enclosed within a vignette from my youth, and invariably I turn to writing as the method. But once I start to immerse, I lose some control and it becomes more like managing a kite in a gale than steering a ship into the memory banks.
-ONE-
think I saw her 4 times
very first time, I kissed her mouth
completely unlike me
Read On…
These words began insinuating themselves into my mind around 5AM on Christmas morning, accompanying me towards waking. Unable to control the torrent, I trundled down to the laptop and completed the ideas. I like these occasions best, when it seems writing is 10% creativity and 90% receptivity. When I feel myself a vehicle for friendly but insistent communication.
It is the question you cannot ask which matters
The axiom you must never scutinize
||skirmishes|| ||with|| ||reality|| 