and maybe it was all in my head which
may be a seventeenth-dimensional
projection or inscrutable code for
pixels and such, or so they say, either
way for a while I didn’t have much
fun at all then got a taste and
got real sore waking up like that
and who knows what other stumbles
Sometimes a light nothing fills me
and I want to burn the forest
but my sweet nib smooth paper it’s
something for the mumbling ghosts to
gnaw on while I cross-hatch for an
hour gumming those juicy mistakes