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.


The thirteenth pocket

Are coming in clear
On this cloudy after noon

Only when I walk
Only when I drive away
Only when I write

But there are these times with coffee
And once and a while just because
Or that odd sunday when god talks to me
But the guideline is still there
  Etched in the sand
  Spun into the glass
  Molting with the birds
Climbing across the powerlines
Smoking from the heat

The sign’s stop wouldn’t do
The trash can, no option
The only place
  Is the firehydrant
  Is the backseat of the car
  Is the mirror's face lift

More codes,
With long keys
  to re-encrypt
  to rewrap the sonnet
Less the news get out to soon
And everything is left out in the open
Like a liqueur cabinet left ajar
Smoking jackets and soft slippers
Are all that divide people
From habits that shape the who of us
Into lumps that create the then of us
Multiply the remainder
It comes up odds everytime.


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