Nothing happens.
The hours thin
like paper
folding on top
of themselves
my eyes burn,
my stomach quakes,
and still
nothing happens.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
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a daily poetry blog (minus weekends) and a nice way to not be a procrastinator...
1 comments:
This poem truly captures what I feel like at the end of the day when I have to write a poem for the blog. It seems like you're starting to experience the wrath of your own creation. While I find this experience rewarding, it's becoming more and more difficult to produce a decent poem.
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