Half Full Circles
Raping paper and wasting ink
Attempting to bag the bubbles
I think,
Or thunk—but I stunk
or I think—that I stink—
Like the ship this drunken captain will sink.
As I crack the bow with
my eyes as I blink.
Will I not be one with the Zen in this pen
before this cartridge is empty again?
For I’m out and about
and the words in my mouth
keep tumbling out
like bumbling clowns—
Spinning unsound and dancing around
till all of the clowns fall
down on the ground,
Which resembles the paper
that I’ll sign like a waiver
when I try to be clever
and write it down later—
Wasting more ink and raping more paper.
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