Words Burn

VLADIMIR: You should have been a poet. ESTRAGON: I was. [Gesture towards his rags.] Isn’t that obvious. [Silence.]  Waiting for Godot. Samuel Beckett A whole ninety-eight cents have recently been credited to my low-tide bank account from Yanks' penny clicks on my must-do-better lines in newly-hewn sob stories without no strummed blues which now appear … Continue reading Words Burn