I worked on a letter today. Worked on its emotion. Like a child wearing pjs during Christmas roaring at themselves in the mirror. Found a funny thing in a thought, about a truck, about a tire, about a mud hole, and about a piece of nothing. Found you there wondering about everything else in a voice unheard unless spoken.
I’ve literally been ‘given’ lines of poetry in my dreams. I wake up, do my job, and write them down. -M. Taggart
This thought was spurred into being by an intriguing post written by Angel Zuma. It appears that Angel is a relatively new blogger.
Please, let’s flood Angel’s blog with support! Visit Angel’s post here: