by mickharris

as soon as i start generating more content than usual (cough i mean any content) i always try and frantically structure or bookend it.

i wrote for two days in a row that means i must write every day and i must use all spaces like my notebook and this space and also write enough so i can justify gluing my face to the playstation later this evening, etc.

it is so fucking hard for me to just be and not cut off the flow at the pass, just stopper it up with worrying or ego or embarrassment or the really amazing combo of all three i generate.

i went to a poetry reading in which the poets were luminous at awp.

i wonder what color my aura is.  if i have one and if it’s charged with lightning.

if i were a superhero i’d be lifelight, i’d generate sun, hone and purify and transmute it into the feeling of life as lava pouring over skin.

taking the apollonian and not precisely raising a bow, but teaching it to move how the moonlight floods and flows and trickles down tree trunks and slowly bathes our eyes.

the sun is too harsh sometimes.

but it’s also what gives the moon its light to begin with.

profundity, i know.  i’m in the process of knowingly having too much coffee this morning.  there will probably be more stuff here later, if not immediately after i finish this ramble.