now and then
with this book on
my mind, sitting and
staring into the silver
horned crown on the
blue flat horizon,
I imagine each chapter
perfectly, each sentence
formed, each idea truly
unique, the words fall
so easy from my mind
to mental page, it's all
complete in the end, edited
submitted, published,
stand up, finished,
I am finished, there's
a film of coffee
left in an old cup,
enough to reflect a sky,
but only those pieces
that are brightest. and
I can no longer fight the urge
to shit my failures away
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