I know a great writer
but you don’t
her greatness is planted
in not knowing, not

I know a great writer
but you don’t
her greatness is planted
in not knowing, not
snow buried, re:
whites, grays, haze
Trieved to a
Saint slobbering Bernard
Life can be so sweet.
The light in the hall has two switches, never pointing in the same direction. One is always up. One is always down.
I no longer live like the others. I understand those mysterious untimely deaths. They are of habits known only to the deceased, leaving everyone living to wonder why. Close relatives believing what danger surrounded their loved one is something that used to be not knowing that the danger is. Always.
The morning arrived in a gradient of orange, purple and blue across the sky. The sun hadn’t pulled itself over the mountains and the moon was enjoying a glimpse of the day. The girl with the pearls in her eyes wept.
I think therefore I am tortured.
The realities of having a rollercoaster in the house would be a nightmare; all the maintenance, security, city permits (of which there would be a plethora for safety, zoning, expansion, etc.) not to mention that riding the same ride would get old.
Kramer’s character, as I heard Michael Richards describe him, isn’t dumb or crazy, he’s actually one level above everyone. Unconcerned with what others think, the world is his playground.