Thursday, February 28, 2013

Under the Table

photo: DAZ

Under the Table

I could be losing my touch.

That complex cleverness dripping my muchness

into a puddle of doubt on the floor

underneath a table of gum stalactites: 

crystallized, chewed-up, neon mounds,

once full of cerebral flavor,

oozed in muse booze, now

withered and wrinkled.

I'm left alone to spelunk

for my gems of rhymes.

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