I like to follow up clear examples of me being uninspired (yesterday) with long-winded poems about writers.
I also like to speculate wildly about famous authors.
Gabriel has said that he is an old man and that he is happy with his life in the hammock and out of the hammock; that the walk through the old town square that may have been his last was sunlit and lovely; he has said that the leaves made endless hallway patterns on his white linen shirt and pants, his tie matched the pale blue sky and he wore a straw hat with a taught beige band. He nodded about the flowers this year; that they came early and went late and what does that mean?
Gabriel does not have an answer but will acknowledge that it indeed means something.
Joan sat in her office last night and looked through her old notebook. She noticed a passage about a woman in California, in Sedona, who has crinkles on her eyes and loves the area and will never leave. The woman told Joan this while wearing a wide brimmed hat sometime in the 60s. Her name is unimportant now, she is probably dead anyway, remembered by someone else perhaps, perhaps not. What is important is that she liked Sedona and that she had on pink lipstick that matched the shade of gloss that Joan’s daughter wore sometimes while she lived in Malibu.
Joan reads on but skips the passage where she discusses working on a movie the same year as the talk with the woman in Sedona.
Galway asks you what a pullet is
then he takes the pullet away and makes it earn itself
He returns it thriving
a nest full of eggs and a basket of red feathers later
Galway will not eat the omelets made from these eggs
but will feed them to the earth.
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