. . . and just what am i supposed to write about today/something witty or cool/or understandable to no one 'cept an educated fool/is there a kernal of truth in my spirit-muse/is this aerobic digital ritual worth the sedentary spreading of my midlife caboose?

. . . and if all i am supposed to write is of worth/will i get acknowledged pre-mortem on earth/will the classrooms have special days toasting my fame/or will unspoken poets remember my name/just the same i proclaim that the best part of all/is the fact that I write/

. . .and I'm havin' a ball!



© 2004 by cynth'ya lewis reed