December 19, 2005 | 6:59 p.m.
gery on, my wayward son.

when asked if he thought that she had one more poem left in her, geryon responded in the affirmative. yes, he thought that she certainly did.

when asked what method she might choose to evoke said poem and put it in a place outside of herself, geryon responded that he wasn’t quite sure as photography was more his forte. he thought that she might start with accepting winter for what it was, removing her mittens so as to get a better hold on an idea and/or pencil.

when asked whether or not he thought that she maybe had something larger than a poem inside of her, geryon responded that he thought that yes, she might indeed have something larger than a poem, less boxey than a breadbox, inside of herself.

and did he think that with the right kind of coaxing, it could ever be tricked into coming outside of her? yes, he thought that it could be tricked and that she herself was entirely capable of putting the thing outside of herself using word tricks only!

regarding however, the question of whether or not it would be worth reading, he could not say. [his opinion as literary genius/hero is very often cancelled out by his being a mere red monster, a myth in the moment, a flighty mite of a thing.]