I think sometimes and then decide maybe not... Then everything comes and goes and look, there's no toes in my socks and I need nothing, but everything. And yes, there's an end... I just see no beginning. Now is the time for later. Fumbling is like falling with out direction, spiralling upwards from the ground to who knows were... Wow, like some sort of panicky elephant caught in an F5 tornado... Say good by to Hollywood, say goodby, my baby... Don't go to the light!!! Sometimes I wonder why why why and then realize I don't know what comes after that... then the Dragonflies spurt fire through the air on a warm August eve... I miss August eves on the beach... What, am I tired? No, my body is whole... My mind is exhausted. I think I'll try to understand some other time. This plan is over... The time fell through it like a fish through a torn net... right strait back into the ocean where it began... Ah the ocean!!! Rhythm of time, rhythm of rhyme, come and sail me away!!! Tide oh tide, take me where you please, set my spirit at ease!!! I think the footing is correct... Now the feet wonder away... Pentameter? What? no, that can not be... Life never seems to flow so easily... Hurrah Hurrahh for whatever and a day, nothing left - nothing at all - nothing left to say... And perhaps Mr. Pinsky has some words, would you like to stand up sir and give us a line or so? Perhaps just a quaint tercet before you go? Maybe just couplet, marked together in heroic style ... Something more than james bond... something a little heavier in beet, a little shorter in length... The epic ends here, wherefore shall we place ourselves? Up amound the stars? Wait no, I may not quote myself, as I so often forget. Senseless meaning, meaningless sense!!! You should know logic and reason can not exist together, just as words can be written on a page, but not over other words, because one would not then be able to make out anywords at all... Not the words would really make a difference, even if they were visable... Not that anyone would take the time to read them... No, it is simply for the joy of joy that they choose to be written, and simpley for the sorrow of sorrow that they choose to be marked down. What more can they ask, they are here to inform. We are, as we are, and that is to say, slightly not at all. Lost I feel I am, but never more than the time of day.
