Don’t write like you think ‘writers’ write
Jonas Ellison


©1914 Judy Ann Giorchino

Slipping silently out through high fever’s door

To rejoin the stardust,

Then brought snapping back through the doctor’s hypodermic,

The child learned early on she was not solid or stable

In her being, but fluid, and

Granted a freedom forever from the fear

That seeks power and control.

Later, the shaman’s medicine took her the other way,

Flying inward into space, and

It was good to know the way back.

Some travel and never return,

Gazing too long into moving water.

Concentration can be a shut door,

Opposite to the State of Flow, but

Practice is essential, to

Do whatever you do so easily

You forget you and your art are separate.

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