Cartessa, organ grind, a bit behind
is better than a lot up front
a little on either side
just gives it extra zest, give it all
give it your best shot
but are we goal-bound, or hell bound
hell blood hound, dog tooth fleck
dust sits on my shoulders
it gathers as I get older
sitting here with nothing to do
but write inane words
and follow strange thought processes
tag label and play it
you’re it, I’m it
we are all a bit strange
how we choose to define ourselves
alter egos psyche crutches
grasp vines and thines, thous and vows
dead words from dead minds
shallow conception nose dived
dive bombed by beetle bugs
ah! summer must be upon us
the time is near
days grow longer
my life grows shorter.
my thoughts grow inner.
MUDCROW
MAY23 1999
