Today it occurs to me that the language of the Sentient Beings has to be poetry
Work in Progress:  “Chances of Drowning”

But I argue, “I’m not a poet.”  
Well, I’m not a good one.
I don’t know what to do.
“A Pigeon Post.”

Just sit back
and listen
In progress: “A Hurricane Steed.”

So I try it.
And I think, “Yes!  That’s how they come to me!”
All I have to do is let the words come to me, just like the pictures.
“Secret Substitute Smell”

You’re Still Talking
“City Jackal”

So I sit back.
Two words, that’s all.
Just two words.
Over and over.
In Progress: “Fare Well”

Thank You
Thank You
Thank You