a prisoner of fate
and old man powder
sifting down through the narrows;
sand and winding streams
headed for the storm to end all
life as it is known
somewhere at the mouth of the river,
a gaping, screaming, passionate expulsion;
vomitous and wretched,
and tied to fate,
bound by shackles thick
and uncontrollable.
still,
it seems apropos.
I am the best thing you've never heard of.
I hold a Bachelor's in English, History and Secondary Education, and a Master's in English: Creative Writing, though my appearance belies intelligence.
My goal in life is to write and to be read. It's a modest stretch by most imaginations.
To most I'm amazing.
It all depends on your definition of literary merit.
All poems contained on this blog are ©Thomas Boersma unless otherwise noted.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Poem-A-Day: Day 218
Finn'd
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