they tore the roof off the poet’s house


they tore the roof off the poet’s house they exposed his walls to the open air they ripped up the floor where he trod so his basement office now lay bare

“…there will come soft rains” he once quoted in a story he wrote long ago unseasonal rains now came falling in the place he once let magic grow

he would laugh to see our tears falling why are you crying?  I’m no longer there my soul has long since found liberty my stories have taken it everywhere

 children not yet born will soon read them their grandchildren will pass them along my body and my house are forgotten but my heart will live in word and song

bradbury books DSC_2146_0

requiescat in pace, Ray

Greg Wilkey's Rules Of Writing

Thinkage [updated]

Thinkage [updated]