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March 12, 2005
in situ
i find myself wishing
that i were anything
but what i am
inconsequential
pressing until my fingers
crush their own tips,
pushing on myself
to make sure i am
ineffectual
i thought i was becoming
more each time but
in searching i only find
raw distortions of me
between the lines.
inanimate
each word obscures
until i am left as
a dusky myth
in the corner
behind yesterday.
©SMO - '03-'05
In case you couldn't tell, I'm going through some old files and I thought it might be time to post some poetry here, to round out the offerings. Not that these are my best but these may offer illumination.