::pre-fiction::

i've decided to write. as a writer, and thus determined, this is what happens. but, as an artist, confusion sets in and, perfection desired, disasters ensue. too many fancy words clutter the page. artistic whims result in unintelligible mutterings. this is my plight. how can i be good at this?

it's a dream i have to one day publish my blubbering sentiments without first bribing the publisher. i've been through this already. i'm out $65 and I own a 300 page paperweight from the International Poets Society. my poem takes up very little space. honestly now.

a string of streaming thought....

conflicted butterflies swarm the sky
such beauty, might they stay a while
keying into my heartstrings
flickers of color & light catch my eye
where will they happen to next