the invisible man (with no disrepect to wells or ellison)

I wrote this for you, before I knew better, before I understood how to reach in and tease the air from greedy alveoli back into the process, less catching in my chest as when you’re on my mind. I wrote this in the moment, reflexive and bemused, a parallel existence in my imagination, not dramatic enough for paper, not reasonable enough for real life, just a hope, skip and a dreamy jump away from this moment, alone in the hills. Learning so much, about overwriting but not underwriting, about strange magician’s ciphers and the things that people do not know. … Continue reading the invisible man (with no disrepect to wells or ellison)