Tuesday, December 17, 2019

In the morning it read like this...

I write this way because I live this way; the topsy-turvy, iconoclast poetic life. When I am thinking thoughts they sound like my words. I am one to land on a number of conclusions. And then the Hume of my heart takes over and lends direction to justice. My rightness may be another's wrong, but if no blood is lost in the matter what the matter? Conscience sends folk scattering in all directions. One's surety isn't always so with the next fellow.


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