Lake County Arts Council
Main Street Gallery
325 North Main Street
Lakeport, California 95453
I was born speaking poetry. My mother was my secretary, writing down the magic that came from my mouth. In my opinion, words and love are the only magic we, humans, can still make because with your imagination, you can form ideas that can change the world or that can change a person.
Half of my summer is spent in my pajamas, the other half is spent dressing up for ballet performances, orchestra presentations, and parades that are all happening in my head. All of my costumes come from plays, music videos, and my sister's closet, from whom I've stolen them.
Not to mention all of my soldiers against reality, but I've said not to mention them. Oh well, I'll mention them this one time. All my soldiers inspire me by doing pointless things, like Wirrow drawing a girl swinging through the stars or Christopher Poindexter writing about a girl who fell in love with the moon.
He smelt of cigarettes, piss, and cologne. There were a few times when I smelt perfume but his own scent was so strong it covered it up. He was always loud, it was rare for him to be quiet. He was big and frightening. He was filled with hopes and dreams, but he was also filled with nightmares and despair. That's why people came to him; no matter who you were or what you believed he had room for you somewhere.
He also caused trouble to the ones who had cars. He made it snow around them. The snow was sharp and dangerous, it could cut you and make you scream and frustration. There were a lot of bad things about him but there were some good things too. Like in the early morning, when everyone is asleep, the sun rises past his ocean eyes and covers his white, gray, and black hair and in a blanket of gold. It lasts for a few moments, but those who have seen it say they feel blessed.
I have yet to witness the city turn to gold, but I bet he is the most glorious and most fearsome when he is given that golden cape and crown.
Poetry by Richard Schmidt