I'm a writer. I'm a fighter. I'm a blogger, too. I box slippery words in a Square Corner. Early morning my legs make lonely road work on run-on sentence, endless to the page. My semi-colon fists pound purple prose like heavy bags. I'm a writer. I'm a fighter. I blog with speedy hands and dancing leg work. I knock out posts one round to the bell. Champ I'll be, someday. Somewhere I'll hold a blog spot above my proud head, and say to the typesetter's world: I need a cut man no more. End Swell never to touch my lathered skin. I'm a blogger, I can be what I want to be. A champ, a chump, a humpback whale, king of the world in a Square Corner. Say bye-bye, to beguiling editor sitting cross legged on a red stool.