Just me, Samuel Smith Taddy Porter, a slice of pecan pie, a Hermes typewriter and some good tunes. Keeping warm, cozy, and creative tonight. Another sunshadow another flash of light. Documentation of the days. Commas. The loss of articles. Patience, innocence, meekness now. These things have floated off into a deep canyon. Buried deep deepdown like a time capsule. A fossil. It's a far place from where I once was. I come back to where I began, things uncover themselves. The manner in which I surrendered all young hope is the same as rediscovering my age-old integrity. Looking closely at things is someting that has to be learned. Being vague is somthing that cannot be denied. Secret passages. Tonight I salute solidarity. I hold the secrets with a smile. My secrets are honest, pure honey. Privacy is the joyous nectar I value and seldom share with others in times of celebration and connection. Love stories are written everyday. Even if you are alone. I am.