That was a spooky step Some kind of Marble-magnetism Whirling me like a spinning top A dreidel on warm wood Make a cord I stayed full, a friend close by Repeat an obsession and it becomes a ratio to your world I do not like ratio talk, I think of using either nausea or plums,
The blue of the veins and everything that is red
As the years came for me I learned to cope with problems in the most artistic forms I could. I would swim to liberate myself from any burden or remorse. It didn’t matter what time of the year it was. I would throw myself in and give my all to the ocean, my hands continuously trying to unbind from where they belong. Nothing was rigid; there was a constant movement, an unbreakable peace.