Today it occurs to me that the language of the Sentient Beings has to be poetry
Work in Progress: "Chances of Drowning" |
But I argue, "I'm not a poet."
Well, I'm not a good one.
I don't know what to do.
"A Pigeon Post." |
Just sit back
and listen
In progress: "A Hurricane Steed." |
So I try it.
And I think, "Yes! That's how they come to me!"
All I have to do is let the words come to me, just like the pictures.
"Secret Substitute Smell" |
You're Still Talking
"City Jackal" |
So I sit back.
Two words, that's all.
Just two words.
Over and over.
In Progress: "Fare Well" |
Thank You
Thank You
Thank You