Today I took a foray into the blog of an old friend who is now a beautiful sculptress of words and I found this post. I decided to try it out myself. I asked a question pertinent to my current state of mental affairs. Thumb perched on the frayed shelf of pages of my poetry anthology I let the pages flow by, ripped the book open with a crack of the spine and let my finger dive onto the page. And what did I come up with?

"The voice of my older brother"
eerily it makes so much sense.

What a strange experiment. What an even stranger result.

I think I've found my new favorite hobby.
Thanks to you Ms. Boyd.

Cheers from soothsaying and page flipping
J