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.


one night

it couldn’t of been decided what
was noise and what
  was just the sounds
  was simply a melody
  was only the mist
could of been nothing more
than a tiny protuberance
from beneath the floor boards
that creeks

the ivory whites were all
clanging about meanwhile
where did those keys get
abandoned this time
as the night passed
without noticing
how long it had taken
all the times before
to fetch the fallen
might that suggest
  be careful
  treed slowly
  hold often

what is there left
to say and how often we glance
at others
opens up something about us
there is no
way to even get out of
  this skin
  a bad cold
  washing the dishes
like a sloppy impression of the outlines
of the body

can't it be that
on this very spot
we mount
at the precise moment a
  horse of distress
  an hour of prison
in a moment
in a flash
out into the street
light without consent
into the horizon line


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