Haiku
Memory grips me by the throat
As I look upon that tree that never
Made for a perfect photograph.
Bouquets, brickbats all welcome. On second thoughts, who am I kidding? Who reads this blog?
Composed of binaries and never ending contradictions, intensely moody, stubborn, firefighter, genius manque, identity hunter on the prowl for stimuli, occasionally given to verbal diarrhoea