FromWinterToSpring

In the future, I will make more tea, entertain more guests, and fix the typewriter. It gets stuck on the unimportant characters, like “A”s. I will send more letters and write revealing exposés to people I have never met. Strangers in a 3 AM Walgreen’s will know all my secrets, my dramas, and my dreams. They’ll know the names of all my cats and not cats. I will finish my novel somewhere ordinary – or maybe I will fall in love with Peru and become a hermit. One day, I will like the taste of wine. I will live out of a knapsack and travel one foot at a time across borders like French and Spanish coasts, ne

My mind is weary. I am missing my precious wings - I tore off an arm - my feathers to fly, and now they lay bloody at my feet because I thought I could outsmart a god. I am dying, slowly, because I swallowed too much water while drowning in the tub again. And I wish I could swallow swords instead because I would be akin to the circus of my mind. A dancer, circling time and nothing else but time. A magician trying to read the same ten thousands lines and choking on the words. He can't cast a spell or change water into wine. Seven doves fly from his sleeve - more free than I. But it doesn't matter at all to me, for I am The Hermit III o