Tuesday, April 03, 2012


The sun rises,
and you wonder what's next.

The dog barks,
he wonders if the door will open.

Resistance as you corner the year.
Fill in between the blanks.
Circle the right answer.

You feel the story ending,
and you wonder what's next.
How do you turn a page
that isn't there?

Well, nausea implies revolution,
adventure. It's like a sneeze
jitterbugging behind the eyes.

Finish this essay:
Sunrise, sunrise.

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