.
.
.
two o'clock in the morning.
staring at the Web.
what am i supposed to write about?
...
time for a cold shower.
.
.
.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
When the muse speaks, you'll read it here first.
About Me
- Sam Mills
- Lansing, MI, United States
- The usual suspect for mid-life questioning. Looking at things since 1955.
Followers
Blog Archive
-
▼
2010
(34)
-
▼
April
(30)
- Poem #28: Moon Over Garage
- Poem #27: Don't Tell My Neighbors
- Poem #26: Going Somewhere Else
- Poem #25: Zack at the Door
- Poem #24: Tyrannosaurus Sex
- Poem #23: Four Senryu
- Poem #22: Tree, Car, Tree
- Poem #21: Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner
- Poem #20: A Rant
- Poem #19: Sam Spade in the 21st Century
- Poem #18: You Told Me About the Birds
- Poem #17: Old Man Blank Page
- Poem #16: Just Sitting Upstairs
- Poem #15: April 15th
- Poem #14: Measuring Sanctuary
- Poem #13: Mussin' Up the Muse
- Poem #12: Three Professions
- Poem #11: Despot in The Garden
- Poem #10: The Intentional Flaw
- Poem #9A: Three Recent Fragments, Late at Night
- Poem #9: Late Night on the Computer
- Poem #8: Not On This Head
- Poem #7: Questions My Dog Asks
- Poem #6: All Over Again
- Poem #5: The Last Refrigerator
- Poem #4: First Cast on Delicate Water
- Poem #3: What Gets Lost to Hope
- Poem # 2: Three Senryu, One Haiku
- In case anyone is wondering where the title of thi...
- Poem #1: What This Poem Is Not
-
▼
April
(30)
Space filler is poetry? Disappointed. And you know that.
ReplyDelete