A few days ago in a galaxy:
Spring Air and I consider a return to some further education. Is the Sun going to arrive every day or will the night release a new habitat? I imagine the world is changing and it will be time to reason and the philosophy of my poetry. I admit some of my works dabble with the dichotomy of truth and fiction. A bit harsh at times. But sometimes necessary when the rain evaporates and I try to cling to a sober imagination.
How is the world going? Sometimes great and other times all I do is think about literature and music. Art was something I imagined would be my path in life but I consider sound art a way forward if I decide to study anything in the future.
Develop some kind of fan base. Emerge with life and vigour. A shopping expedition. Take care of the great memories. The crew. A follow up. UFO. Jesus at a bus shelter. Abracadabra. Don't forget to write the howl in the woods. A career.
Family time and forensic portrayals. Extended across time and space. Some kind of alliance. A screenplay where I play along with her dance and draw the camera with? Hunger and proper manufacturing techniques. Cheap alley a clean richness a mezzanine where we balance and have a tense love at dinnertime. I will bring home the usual. Money but never enough. Cliche and time. A dark and stormy morning at every door. An umbrella with beads of sweat. Work on a poem while collecting the weeds. A flower, truly severed. Pistol and stamens.
Everyone brave just for something to eat.
Disturbed COVID survivors.
X-Men issue #201. Sorry it took me awhile to raise the $0.75 Cents I paid at the drug store for that rag with the paper route minimum wage I broke my thesaurus for on dark and stormy mornings.
Stars and Tribunal.
A stack of Ai news thrown in the woods. Comics? Bande Designé?
Delivered.
Pony expressionism.
Leif crunching on the leaves in a new Vinland. Pour un vendage et une femme en Canada.
Howdy etranger.
The eclipse is coming.
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