They'd say it's a phase. If they even saw.
I see through the clouds, I'm near home.
I've been here, intracellularly here.
Not sick or gone. Not gone, man.
I'm on a plane onto a new plane.
I turn my head and my seatmate is me.
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It's been said that we all have counterparts of self in the world. How would I react if I turned MY head, I wonder?
ReplyDeleteGood to have you posting again, TF. We've missed your writing!
RBB,
DeleteThanks! I think something is 'brewing' inside. The writing impulse is dammed-up, building steam, meditating, recharging, ascending -- you pick the metaphor.
It's not voluntary or disspirited. It's subconscious and . . . perhaps? . . . revivifying.
TFool
You can't hurry it. I mean, of course you can -- take it out of the oven before your internal timer goes off. But in my experience, then crust is doughy and you find all the good bits inside are still frozen.
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