Evidently I’ve not only stopped blogging but stopped communicating almost completely. Even my mother just asked me if she’d pissed me off, and she’s never said anything like that to me, ever. I’m certain there’s a list of people who are likewise wondering if I’m angry, or who are angry with me. Mea Culpa. I’m […]
Evidently I’ve not only stopped blogging but stopped communicating almost completely. Even my mother just asked me if she’d pissed me off, and she’s never said anything like that to me, ever. I’m certain there’s a list of people who are likewise wondering if I’m angry, or who are angry with me.
Mea Culpa. I’m sorry. It’s been a weird week or so. I’m trying to settle down and write something, anything. The words slip through my grasping fingers like eels.
He is called the human nest-egg
Is known as Prince of Leaves
He is hidden now but you can see
The bubbles where he breathes
He has mastered all the hard things
And is difficult to shock
Has a muscle on the bottom
Which attaches him to the rocks
–Shriekback, New Man