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he found an old file on
the computer called
the book,
and started reading
another batch of mediocre
first thought best thought
ramblings, he must have
scribed when the words
were flowing.

another half-assed project
stuck at the start.
he once wrote
five hundred and seventy two
haikus. one every day
for nearly two years
and then deleted them
to make a point about
impermanence.

the stories on the file
weren’t half bad:
a writer trying hard
to write well
and honest
and true
about love and loss
and destruction and rage
and all the things writers  
have been writing about
since there have been
stories to tell.

so much love
for a life so hard fought,
filled with the need
for unearthing,
igniting, unleashing
back out into the world.

i am here.
i was there.
i will be there.