Perfect potato

Imagine Margery in an imaginary menagerie

Consider Cicily in a cataclysmic capillarity

Enable Eleanor in an egalitarian envelope

Admiring Alison on an allegorical animal

Seeing the best 

Fearing the worst

Love and punctuation

Fit to burst.

"The richer I am at writing the poorer I seem at self expression and the more I feel for that abstract and empty space that temporarily sits there between my ears and behind my eyes. It frustrates and fascinates and I cannot grasp it. I have known it all my life but it appears strange, foreign and unlikeable. It is hostile towards me many times, contrary and determined to thwart what I think are my own finely tuned purposes. Occasionally, then, now and without warning out of it pops, like a unexpected magician's rabbit or card trick ending, a clever, bizarrely structured or polished thing. Straight and correct, like a diamond or a perfect potato. There it is, raw, dripping dry  and born from my mind. Puzzling and inexplicable, like an unplanned puppy birth or some unrelated consequence of a backward thought. These moments make me happy and, if I am truthful, a little confused because up until that time I surely had forgotten that I don't really know myself or how the fluid mind plays these tricks. Again and again it would appear to churn out it's contents  and memory still plays these damnable repeated tricks."