My current trend in writing is to treat it like bits of code. Debugging as time goes on (fixing spelling/grammarish issues).

Most of these poems will rest the way they are written, but given time and interest many will see a patches or 2 before it is over.

8.18.2005

perfectly dirty

what is not perfect

without a speck out of place
dust and dirt
settle down to earth by
angels wings
pushing each particle
arranged into a mandala
of early morning soup
at the dawn of town square

what is not dirty

the engine of the heart
pumps out heat
through the mouth
uptakes the pressure
patience
it emerges
we rise
the grain fields lay fallow
then sprints above the curst
rise and shine
rinse out the cobwebs
count the spirals
arrange

what is not perfectly dirty

does our life design our death
or do we cascade hopelessly forward
a fly heading toward the fans
fill up the tank
wings spread open
heading nose first
down
intake valves pumping
no stopping now

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