learning this, exercise in word droppings

excuse me i blogged, it went all over the place, what a mess, who would feedback off such a demonstration of word regurgitation and reflux? i’m learning this don’t show me to the rule book, thanks, color me dense, thick not creamy, not light and not trite, where is my Austenian muse? Tapping maple trees no doubt and splitting firewood on the edge of the wilderness, Brooklyn, learning, writing out and off about the passage of New York’s Diaspora, picking up on mysteries without many clues, shreds of lace and hemp rope, pottery and instruments…words that once rhymed and pressed my petals, these are the words of my passing by and dropping dead, my own eulogy, i’ll tell ya truth no matter how un-pretty it is.

The prophet talked of a sweet meal that turned bitter, it went in well enough, the digestion of all this information has finally split a seam and it looks like the sewing machine is right handed, i’m not bitter, i’m still able to think and reason and decide and log out the way i can now.

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