Breathe, settle, resurface and then dive back in

I thought I was done. Now my blood feels heavy and tired. Two hours this morning, cutting and slicing and doing intricate surgery on 6 lines and then that rush after it’s all over, the conviction of something great being born. It had meat in my handwriting, meat on the lined page, weight in ink, the length of the lines.
But when I typed it up it looked like meatless, open-faced white bread.
Now I know what it’s like to be a guy with half-chub – what the hell do you do with it?

Breathe, settle, resurface and then dive back in.

meanwhile, the squirrels are committing suicide off the tree limbs. I’m afraid to look at the lawn.

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