on my screen
I observe
n contests
on an internet
site.
Time flies
quickie
then
prewrite.
goosebumps left,
then
I'm through
patience gone.
my keyboard is
silent
still.
and I am
reduced to trophy
watching.
just thought I'd
cook your
goose,
gander.
8 Count
from my bed
I watch
3 birds
on a telephone
wire.
one flies
off.
then
another.
one is left,
then
it too
is gone.
my typewriter is
tombstone
still.
and I am
reduced to bird
watching.
just thought I'd
let you
know,
f*cker.
(9 February 2010)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem