vacillating between the macro and the micro
the author gets nowhere. widely swinging with
his ten dollar and ninety-nine-cent words,
and then, the pinch, punching in with precision,
looking through the lens at the people he has
created, painting the pieces no one will see.
yes, he gets nowhere, and look with what glee!
Well, it looks like I've majorly lapsed on the poem-a-day habit. Not to worry. I'm taking a short break to finish the Balkey story line....
“What,” the young, scarred and scabbed Scib said, “did Mr. Pin calm him – Bixson-” And Balkey closed the gap as soon as the word left the...
Tell him Coral has finally gone sour and the Pin is as crooked as we all thought,” fryed Balkey and eyed the straight and tall, the...