Don't come looking here to borrow
I've none here left to spare.
I can't get my mind around them-
My thoughts are all up in the air.
My mundane thoughts are asinine,
I prattle like a fool
The incoherent musings of a philosophic mule.
I search in vain to find them,
must i forfeit the joys of prose-
To drown 'neath gross ineptitude
as the pounding silence grows?
As russet patted choughs take flight and madly sweepe the sky
So too my frenzied thoughts and words away from me do fly.
Could I tie a piece of string to them so that they could not stray?
Could I hold them tightly in my palm so they could not get away?
I can't tell you how this makes me feel,
my pen just lies in wait
as I build a trap I can't describe
so my words cannot escape.
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