A poem written each day upon waking. It's mostly unedited. I think that's the point. Promise not to laugh, or let me give up, and please, wish me luck.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
1/19/11
Mindless amoeba, multiplying in some
non-carnal sin.
Science like assigning seats at random
instilling shame -
forced evacuations and obstacle courses
As we run, we stumble over
the carefully placed blame.
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