the day is ripe with intentions
both planned and spur
but none come to fruition
on the expanding branches of todays sorted
and troublesome thoughts
no answer is a good answer


i lay back in the faulty wire of malfunction
am i just grasping words here
random from the meaning....disturbing
but there is the crux of the problem

static thoughts erratic along the edge of mind
where when what...the normal fare
but the images
crisp clean
a man in a feild...his hair is on fire...he is laughing
a tower in a snowstorm...a single light burns on it...it is desolate

images and the flow
of them along the page
showing the words
rather than speaking them
folly i tell you...folly

the day grows long
and i ahve things to do
i will not do them