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Musings aimed to please, inspire, take you away from this mad world and deliver you to even crazier realms.
Now readable on multiple media layers! No extra charge for nuance or meta-tropes!
Coppula eam, se non posit jocularum
Alfred E. Newman
MANIFESTO
Robin Morrison has pursued life like a senile butterfly enthusiast, rushing off without so much as a net, always feeling he's left something behind; for example, the memory of where he came from before he emerged to mate and some day die.
He is old and unwise. His sword arm is shot, and he agrees with the authorities that there's nothing like a good blaster at your side and stomping on anything that still writhes. He calls this 'writing'.
"Writing protects me from reality," he said. "Readers protect me from my creditors.
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2 comments:
Robin,
Wow. You still got it. Happy to see you're putting it out into the world to read. You got it going on. I still have your letters.
Welcome to the city of bridges. There is something about bridges. The possibilities and connections. Burning bridges. Going a bridge too far. A Bridge Over Troubled Water. Seven Bridges Road. I wrote a poem about the Broadway bridge one year for a WW contest. I didn't win.
If you want to meet for a spot of tea, a glass of water or a Pepsi you're welcome to email me.
Best to you.
Margo
Sorry not to respond sooner. Was busy elsewhere; haven't revisited this blog for awhile.
So you live in Portland too. One can reach me in private at pastmastergeneral@gmail.com. Google and a host of heavenly AI-bots will monitor everything we say for every possible minute nuance by which to control and market to us, but they don't know what they're reading, just how it weights a given data spectrum.
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