Wednesday, October 07, 2009

It takes at least four verses
To transform thought into sense
Not this two and a half stanza dribble
That ricochettes into stray eyes
But runs out of breath before it's done
These half-strangled meanderings
Unfit for the rudest beggar
Litter pavements and alleyways
Like mumbled promises.

No comments:

After a busy day when confronting admin

 We must all come  Find ourselves And we will all be found Regardless  As the sun finds the morning As breath finds the lungs As I am found ...