Brains plastered about Broadway, crises arising, appetizing morsels for advertising, chortling bag-heads, with open zippers and zippos alight. Drink deep the wide river, the wide awakening, seeing the dust, plastered over everything in its wake. There is no dog, only the infinite, the blessed, and the unbelievable. Take hand with the traveling man, one who talks of a world he's never participated in. Listen and learn.
As the sun touched my tree,
as far as I could see,
There was a raging, foaming sea
my fears got the best of me
and only the hawks,
the tired, weary hawks
heard my plea.
The Country Priest and the Desperate Stranger
Like an easy day the bike flew down the sidewalk, giving wind its character and making sound an oddity. The basket clinked a little at each crack, and it was almost musical, so he hummed along. And along.....
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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