Credo
Now, when I talk it is not just to say this or that. But it is to say what is between. Over there, under the sycamore, runs the argumentative periwinkle. The blue eye of southern spring. Over there, the whistle of chickadee and blue bird. Here swings the rightful cadence of the blues. The melancholic swarm of words, thick with dribble, and slang. To my own self be true. To say what is between: the periwinkle, the chickadee.