Chapin City Blues

Writing is writing whether done for duty, profit, or fun.

There are moments when the soul crushing depression hits and I’m crippled. My own voice betrays me that, if I even try to cry, it’ll crack. I hold a sob. In the stacks, I’m scanning the books. I’m putting them in order. I try to regain my balance, because it’s been too long since I’ve …

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Why don’t you be the artist And make me out of clay? Oh, why don’t you be the writer And decide the words I say? Images. A bus stop. A street light. Flashing strobe-like apparatus. Sentinel being watching for eternity. A smile. A laugh. A crack of thunder and the blur of electric branches reaching …

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