Sunday, September 6, 2009

when i don't know what to write

i steal from my old self. here's a poem. (my mom pronounces it "poim")

exceeding lowest expectations
perched, abashed, atop a list
bold Failures
head turned, inconsequentially
in the direction of a reflection
of an image
an elusive autobiography
yesterday's applicant
today's regular
tomorrow's yesterday's repeater

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