Saturday, April 2, 2011


Tap, Tap, Tap,
Tapping too,
Have to get centered

To make it through
The metronome beats rhythmically

With each syncopation
I’m forced to remember you,

Soft, soft, softly spelling it,
Baby words, and baby steps,

Fun, fun, functionality,
The ink to the pen,

Reminds me of everything,
Rigid is the structure I’m surrounded by,

Ninety degrees which separate,
The land outside,

And the dreamers mindscape,
After the aging hours,

You’ve moved past a blank slate
To an ivory tower, constructed in precise detail,

Bitten fingers erect a sleeping gate, a safe passageway,

From offbeat dream to imbalanced fears, yet never lacking the appeal

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