...are you thinking too highly of yourself if you think of yourself in a manner that is amusing to only you? (not me necessarily, but could be...)

...we all wish we could be giants

Seasons

..if i had to make passionate love to just one season, it 'twould be autumn.

upon reading one of the five books I have going, it was time to finish the laundry. To my horror I found one of my "pocket" journals I usually keep in guess where, my pocket when occasionally out and about in the wash. This is the second time I have done such a foolish thing, and it is quite irritating to think that perhaps some of my better "thoughts" or "words put together (some call this poetry..the jury is still out on mine) are now stuck together in a wet clumpy ink run of a glob. I shall now dedicate the remaining space of this short and run-on-ish narrative with a few of the selections on the waterlogged prose. Dear Heavens, we've got to start taking better care of our history! (note to reader, the pages are stuck together and torn, and obviously wet, so I may be incorrectly quoting myself)



Were a row of sardines
light like matches
only on the ground
rather than a row
of torches in the air
connected to the heavens
unity in the clouds.