2004 April 11
All day the thoughts are becoming,
Each engendering more
Possibilities compounding
Anticipation building
Until it bursts forth
Streaming jumbledly
A dozen lines to a thought,
A dozen thoughts to a line,
A senseless mass
All around me
This? This is my masterpiece?
This wreck of letters, garbled lines
Lame but limping along in
Singsong naivety?
Hack Slash Shuffle Sew
Re-arrange Re-assemble
Smoother Quicker Better now
Though despite the blinding imperfections
It shows what I have to tell.