It's my favorite time. I'm in a slow cooker of imagery. Things are churning and burning and simmering too. I hear and see my story everywhere: in a song, in a pair of shoes, in the shadows that flicker on my wall in the late afternoon. Some days the words fly out and others just one or two or none. It's the hardest and yet the most fulfilling time. Keep going. Keep going.
 |
| in front of me |
 |
| 'snowdrifts like gray snow cones' |
 |
| blank slate |
No comments:
Post a Comment