At the Sprouts Parking Lot ~ American Sentence Day 91 of 108

american sentence, flagstaff, folk, jazz, magic, music2 Comments

accordion waft
warm breeze
a dream, a movie, another country

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I'm a rock-n-roller poet who left the Big Apple for the Big Sky Desert where I've been letting it be and grooving with universal love, singing to the gods, dancing with the muses and bicycling with dreamtime messengers. I like altering my reality through imagination, movement, breath, and makin' stuff.

2 thoughts on “At the Sprouts Parking Lot ~ American Sentence Day 91 of 108”

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