Friday, August 13, 2010

Out The Door Poem

I have four minutes
before I stand idly by
the gateway to someplace
overridden.

In that time,
I have taken with
whatever I wish,
which is to say, nothing,

and abandoned
whatever I please,
which is to say,
enough to count.

I have two minutes
before I lock myself
into a cerebral seat,
dizzying with plot.

The time is now,
and I carry with me
the airy dreams
of my bed-ridden soul.

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