Charles Hice (May 13 2004 / Heaven)

Epic Grand Doer
Epic Grand Doer
the novel listed is not the one from me the novel is beyond my prose beyond my creative poems past all the short funny storyies that eye write is the novel
it might never bare fruition perhaps in my old old age the novel would have grandeur on a scale of past mistakes the vast sweeping epic the long tome the novel would be born
the panorama vista rolling hills saga impregnating the scenerio novel
a rival to war and pieces of the book found scattered in the grass where my mice thrive on poor forgotten bread
th enovel on the dismal shore of the dismal beach waving in the foam
the novel full of thoughts each one my own
eye could go quietly insane and fill the novel with a line on every page the same
in the manner of a big typhoon the epic grand doer loves you
this would be the novel and the length of days to come
they pick the book upp off the shelf and toss it in the trash containing filthy lies they say in these days there is no such thing as love but wait
the novel comes
alive
and dances back upon the shelf and speaks to them of me
and then they see
the novel full of lines the same one every time the epic grand doer only me
only me
insanity