Not overcooked. Not undercooked. Just all half-baked goodness in every write.
Monday, December 13, 2010
No Time For Pundits
I sat Listened Unimmune Information bits, tiny, tingly Weighty mass of media Truth peeks, peers and wants to unfold When mouths loud with keys to kingdoms Brandish only a part, a tempting toss “HEAR ME. HERE ME.” A moment of power granted by waves A borrowed sword burrowing the underneath And it wanted mind Enough never rode the news cycle Enough knows no legs nor length nor loss But I know enough And it is.