Thursday, January 2, 2020

Who else almost writes 2019?

Is it too early?

We can still mess up and get away with it?

I think I have a crush on the weather lady.

How would I know it’s real?

I have a hard time at the grocery store.

But I must go.

I’m editing a book.

Started back on Christmas Day — 2019.

I was due on Christmas Day — 1986.

I ran through the new year.

Running into New Year’s Day.

There I went, and he goes.

It was dark and cold, but I was running to gold.

Like a jungle and the path unfolds.

My safety lights shine, flash, and glow.

Freedom runner and to the tunes I blow.

Singing and breathing.

Wild child of the Newbirth repeating.

Words everlasting to practice a spoken thing.

One to echo the beautiful wording who creates endings.

-Budd

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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