ced grasshoppers. Sometimes I would enter a kind of altered state as I sat in my booth gazing at the summer flowers that dazzled the Square with electric yellows, reds, and purples. During those altered states, poems would spill onto the pages of my journal, whole and full-fledged, needing little revision. I was amazed and confounded by this development. This was just a glimmer of things to come.
Reader Comments