Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

the fan hums
like a mechanical lover
the humidity is humongous
you feel the weight
on your hunched shoulders,
I'm eating black walnuts
sipping cranberry juice with gin
waiting for that kick
that glint in the eye of an apparition,
my chi is shackled like dead air
before the kerfuffle, cyclonic
heart rate ratchets back
anticipation, anticipation
poetic eruption spewing
like the dam upstream from Johnstown,
projectile concepts wiped from the floor
poured through a mesh filter
the juices sponged like nuggets
of ebony ink wrung into a jar of possibilities
or maybe it's nothing at all,
maybe it's just a pile of literary barf
come to rest
on your nightstand
your rocking chair has gone still
you access the immeasurable

Hell yeah, Mongolia

That's it! You nailed the character and essence of my writing career so far. Which doesn't exist. Trying to access the immeasurable...

where's there's chi, there's a secret door to the immeasurable

this is what keeps me interested