Time has legs: it walks and of course it runs.
Somewhere in the cybernetic land of the brave, America, a trailblazing coffee shop is situated,
born from assortments of poetry biscuits, flash fiction soups that wink like
a jolt of rainforest lightning.
The Fictional Café, a buffet of literary commentary and steaming cups of cappuccinos,
the sweet aroma of words waft through its glowing virtual walls,
beckoning and satiating all sure creatives.
Inside the Café, you are welcomed by a band of poetry baristas.
I joined the Fictional Café as the Poet in Residence and the greatest blessing is
a myriad of my experimental writings have been serialized, featured, and published within its digital pages.
Jack B. Rochester and your team of literary champions:
I salute you for the Poet in Residence position and for your confident investment
in my writings and mutual collaborative efforts.
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