Photoshop ate my poem, I had this whole beautiful idea, at least I thought so. I clicked on layers, my text disappeared. No matter what I do I cannot resurrect my poem from wherever the computer ate it.
Since I never remember what I write beyond writing it down, I have nothing left of it. The joys of writing being a magical conjuring.
Maybe it is for the best. I have written a lot lately. Most of it is contained in my journal.
I hope each of you has better fortune with your pursuits. I am going to lose myself for a while in The Rolling Stones.
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Haphazard Creative 
Aw that’s a bummer indeed. But it’s also a great demonstration of our inspiration coming from the ether, of us being merely the receivers of our work. That’s what I like to think.
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I believe that completely. I make up things, if I do not immediately write them down or otherwise capture them – Poof, they are gone.
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