(Sevens, a recurring feature on Aquarium Drunkard, pays tribute to the art of the individual song.)
There is no taxiing towards the sky here. It begins with the click of landing gear retracting, then accelerates immediately into a litany of wildflowers and trees: “The wintergreen, the juniper/The cornflower and the chicory.”
They teach you in creative writing programs not to write about writing, because writing about writing, and writing about writer’s block especially, is inherently boring, the acme of navel-gazing. (Here’s holding out hope for . . .
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