Black in the fifth century, AZ, likely talk amongst the stones genuflected about the myriad of constant brainwave absence. Haven't you heard? Bought a mocking bird, flies all over town. Got in big trouble when it robbed the Elementary School, though.
Every dollar, on top of hollering masses of crazed absentees, like people on the edge of a deep lake, where the depths hold the secrets of a screaming horde, a terrible reminder of what can be, what may draw the attention to unkind events. Once the time drew nigh, it was high time to act upon impulse, on jerk, on vibe, on yank. Happenstance was once believed a scientific law. In the old days one would have called such a mistake: dumb.
Microdots on a barn
a bluff for a day,
We all gave a darn
when the brains flew away.
On Xmas of 1992 my brother gave me this journal made of recycled paper with a twig pencil. I eventually filled it up sporadically up to 1995. I dug it out, dusted it off, and started looking through it today, May 6th, 2013. I've decided to reproduce the posts online. It's raw and sure to be embarrassing, but I feel enough time has passed that I can distance myself, yet find a very familiar me within these lines and perhaps find the inspiration to take up the pen again..... Thanks, big Bro.
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