Semi-Daily Scribbles

Rolled up like a cigar in the sweet, damp grass or stretched across the attic rafters, there's no waking up from this crazy dream. Everyone is upside down, gasping, groaning. All guts and no grace. Lessons catch in my throat and never make their way into my marrow. All is lost. All is forgotten. The ground is littered with false hope and afterthoughts.

Another ball rolls out into traffic.