creatures of the mud swamps,dreaming of ships that never cross the bar—only ships in bottles, no winds, no sails,feet trapped in derelict rigging,wedged in mud and water and grain,too far to reach the distant ocean,beaten by the heat of the red sun,waiting for it to set on the blue horizon,all that is left of a …
I stayed away all these days…
There's this thing about being here in this space...the thing that told me for sure that I wanted to write. The thought that my words were out there for someone else to drink, to dream, to scold, to scoff - all of it. I felt it the first time someone replied to an entry. It …
Dixie's Road Trip 