Strings, requesting to be detangled
Bulky spider on steroids mess
I give up before I start, wrangled by
The perceived enormity
If there is any beauty to be found
It is lost in the downward spiral in
My shoulder blades so I
Walk away
Detach
Wait for the
What’s next
See more progress on: write a (sloppy, half-formed if need be) poem every day (or so) during May 2010
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