I was climbing the tree then went to the swing then woke up in an ambulance. It was being a kid living on a hill. Then there was a new bicycle, shiny blue with big handle bars. I would explore the town and count all the cats.

Strange blue boys bump in the night with grins and drool. Bump and grind and liquidate emotions. Crazed by the empty sky with no clouds in sight. They climbed the big hill of the old sacred. Looking back behind them as if seen only a big gaping sea. Crags at the edge like teeth. He gestured into the infinite.

Writing lesson: If your fingers have a mind of their own let them loose every so often. Smoke will rise from your finger nails. You will wonder at the clouds and perhaps hang a picture on the wall before it’s late. Nobody will know!

Ever was there a yes so big and sure of foot. Ever to greet her with a sad smile outside a fancy rectangle. A small meatloaf was prepared with an eye for me. It was done in the afternoon sun for the conception. The infant has no eyes and a big screaming mouth. It was an albino with four arms. This is how the story started..