January 6, 2008

Whirling Dervish

I have a lot of ideas in my head. Most sprout in the black of the early morning hours, products of an ill-fated sleeping pattern. An urge to preserve much of what has passed is only puddle-deep; and nearly quenched. Step hop. Step hop. Some memories should live in action alone; or maybe eyes.

A packed suitcase defines a tone; a wrinkled reporter's notebook tucked into a torn rear pocket re-enforces it. Armed with music, bandannas, memories, ideas, and a healthy attraction to cloud, asphalt, and green -- departure climbs the back of a strong brick home.

Five to-do lists march between me and a whirling dervish of wheels.

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Blogger Maria Servold said...

this post is awesome.

May 19, 2008 at 7:44 PM 

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