Tag: nanowrimo

[sorry! fixing it up]

[sorry! fixing it up]

[sorry! fixing it up]

Driving around late at night after the show and maybe I’m a little fucked up still and I’m thinking to myself, Christ sometimes I wish I still lived in this city. Old haunts do that to you.

Up Hayes, cruising down Divisadero, then down Oak like a vein.

Once there was a tiny baby who flew.

It flew over fields of sorghum and chicken coops. It flew over tugboats and mountain peaks. It flew over people drinking their morning coffee and people climbing rocks. Then the tiny baby finally landed — with a soft thud of course — on a stained mattress sitting all higgledy-piggledy in a junkyard.