this is not a poem.
this is a post.
there is a difference.
the difference is in this: i did not type this in my word pad, then correct this in my microsoft word. this was composed and uncorrected in the little post box.
this post is about poetry--even though it is not poetry.
this has been done before.
i've been blocked, so today i went for a bike ride. after 2 seconds of biking i realized it's way to bloody hot to bike, so i went up and down some hills then came home (the entire ride lasted, oh, 5 minutes). the bike ride did not inspire me.
i finished up my chores around the house for today and decided to subject my mind to the hum and clank of my electronic type writer (sears model, very cutting edge and all that). between the typewriter and i, we produced two oversized pages of text. the first of the two seems somewhat sucessful. this text will be shared here in due time. it deserves some jestation and some editing before being exposed to the internet--it's young.
i may be tempted, after talking to my ship mate kilgannon, to tranfer some of my recent dreams into poetry; however, i will have to edit out some of the dr who references in order to purify the dreams.
when "the first long page" (the name of the peice i typed today) is revealed, perhaps i'll include a footnote or two for those of you interested in the origins of the poem (because i'm am stupidly eager to do such torturous things to my readers).
in the mean time, my hairy spider friend and i are going to continue our battle of wits and gestures (i'm only winning because i'm 300 times bigger than him).