a piece from here a piece from there not random really all are from somewhere.
to notice ideas wandering at the outskirts of my awareness its kinda because i assume they are there to rend there to mend there to defend my heart and then chew my bones.
the poet, smiling, -i assure, they were never my words. the interviewer wonders, -but you wrote them? the poet, -i found them. at the tip of my pen.