I don’t like to relegate my writing

to the last thing at night

but that’s often where it

ends up–at the end of the day.

I’ve given the day everything

I’ve had and now to see

what’s left, I come to the


It often gets the scraps–

a lot of trying to be sharp

but all that comes up are


Sometimes more is

there when it shouldn’t

be.  I’m dog tired and

yet I write something.

I don’t know why the

old lady swallowed a fly…

Categories: creative writing, Poetry, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

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