(Taken February 25, 2019 by L. Buchanan – @ 200 Vesey Street, New York City)

Mid May I’ll be flying back to New York City to take the same picture as I did below back in February, however, this time I’ll be holding book one in them ashy ass hands…

February 25, 2019 by L. Buchanan – #AMWriting to the BAG!!

This is me writing back to New York City, so follow me back and there above instead of my empty hands, book one will be in hand.

Brookfield Place where I’ll just show up; “…can you snap a pic?”

“Thanks, it’s for my first book…”

(to the random passing patron)

I’ll choose anyone nearby for my Instagram and flick it up. Again, because last I was here [in NYC] I was heading below the equator. I’ve made that a thing now so maybe a change for the greater.

One love, this is for the world to read and beloved.

I forgive everyone, and have never forgotten about anyone. Next time I’m at Brookfield Place, I’ll snap the same pic proving Book One is done.

Meanwhile, #Amwriting, #Amfighting, panic attic #8 but beast took over for striving.

Follow me back to New York City, see who’ll take the golden flick of the city.

I’ll have ran to the bag; from Battery Park maybe I’ll start. Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, or Twitter, Budd is accessible and I promise I deliver.

Did you read my 7,000 word poem I configured?

I wrote that in D.C. to prove I can write a long piece, and in 3 days I delivered.

After publishing I finally had peace.

I don’t play around with my writing, it’s like an oath beneath I’m fighting.

No pop, no style, here’s the black man to prove life after suicide can be like Zion if you decide. Book one may touch on suicide, maybe the panic attic writing it if I confide.

There my pain, I no longer hide.

Broadway Bridge I ran it, and to the homeless people of Portland I sang shit.

I was tired; people likely thought I was the running maniac off the wire.

Cuz I also said hi to my dad running over the Willamette River. Tired.

An animal running wild in the city. Portland, I’m doing this with good intentions and words for plenty.

I wish my dad could see this, but he’s watching beyond Moons and any Sun.

That’s why my runs can bare tears, they’re not only for fun.



Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes to encourage readers to explore the depths of their inner ocean, an unexplored self, because it's fun once you get through the emotional part... “The world around us is our vehicle, what you'll read is how I digest it.” -Budd

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