Monday, May 15, 2006

like potatoes

sporadically I think of time
now & then I write in rhyme
the question might arise if I'm
permitted by poetic crime

or license (as it's often dubbed)
    to treat time as a stuff
that like potatoes might be scrubbed
    & fried & served & scarfed?

ah time consumes me while I eat it
lingeringly     I cannot beat it


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