May 5, 2020
What spiny problem has hounded me out of my reverie today? There is always that prickle, that prod, that jab to start my mind, that sets the treadmill running, that starts the flickering and turns on the spotlights. Seems only sinister events could follow this abrupt departure from stasis and in the swaying lights scanning the horizons all I see looming from the shadows are problems that turn and rear up to full height. They grow with attention, swell and blossom into soft luxurious forms, even when I know they are hollow, shallow scarecrows only able to flaunt and taunt.