Were I a plumber
and not a poet,
I would have
a guarantee
of running water
and money,
but beauty
might no longer
flow though me.
- mce
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Merely a holding cell for journal entries, wry observations, attempted witticisms, poems and random aphorisms. Sense of humor required. This is poetry, NOT biography. Please do not call 911, stage an intervention or suggest AA. Everyone deserves their own death, allow me mine. Tentative conclusions encouraged. Advice ignored. Absolute truths not welcome. Enlightenment unlikely. Play on.
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February
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- Ne Plus Ultra
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