And though he pointedly laments this fact, the rest of us miss so many episodes of America's Next Sloppy Artist every day all day long. The naps, streaks, dissolution, indecision, watercolor forfeiture and that one thin sodden manifesto. "When the wind blows," he says, "you shan't hear me turn."
Nobody's creekbed
songs, prayers, poetry, stories, art, photographs, moving pictures, fondnesses, tall-tales and meditations
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