Poets are coffee percolators.
If we’re patient the words and the feelings and the emotions will come together like a tsunami of creative pageantry, a God force that will leave you spent and trembling.
Poets stand the test of time like Noah before and after he became an arc builder.
I want to advance with you through the gloomy and Lite-Brite forests of a virtual reality unraveling before us like string cheese or another reckless and wanton ball of yarn.
We start as leopards who believe they cannot change their spots and before you know it we’re capable of anything as we channel our inner Dr. Seuss and focus on what’s really going on.
Some people resist the notion of ever creating anything original, while others know if you don’t take a risk every now and again what’s even the point of accepting this life and doing your best to outgrow your skeleton and brain trust?
Poets are living, breathing labyrinths ready and willing to go the distance once boundaries have been displaced and our worst nightmares have been tucked in and read a bedtime story.
Julie appeared in a disco ball of glitz, glamour and a librarian’s knowledge that the books inside our heads are the cradle of civilization.
Julie’s a Shakespearean actress who understands it’s the words underneath the acting that will break these Victorian chains and deliver us from our cloven hooved bondage.