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.

10.04.2005

A bit too late.

One night I stooped
Low
A gut opened up
So
I bleed on the floor
Till
A river rowed and rolled
Me
Down the little lane
Up
Over the night skyline
Into
The den of the lion
But
I was a bit too late
You
Had already played your
Song
So I took my leave and went
Outside
Into the fluid night air
Out
above all of the cars
Parked
Packed neatly in rows like a
Plan
From on high that turns out
Wrong
Again I am sorry you were right
We
Were not awake anyway
Always
A shy step away from a better
Place
To call your own, home.

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