We need a Celine/Miller/Kerouac/Bukowski/type for this time and place. I've chosen myself for the job. What did the man say? No guts no glory? So writing poems from the gut will do. And my star is rising...

Thursday, February 03, 2005

poems are fish

the ideas for poems are
fish swimming upstream
which die
a few make it through
but upon closer look
the scales are torn
or the eye is crooked
this river is a powerful
force which brings many
things to fruition
in my dreams
fish float, glide, easy
and
sure
but oh
but oh
p
u
I hope some make it

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