...
I wrote the wrong poem, by mistake
The idea broke, and I followed the break
I got further and further, and further, away
From anything I ever meant to say
I got so far I couldn’t get back
I had to stay the night and write the wrong tack
And maybe later get on the right track
...
Except I wrote the wrong poem, by mistake
The idea broke, and I followed the break
I got further and further, and further, away
From anything I ever meant to say
I got so far I couldn’t get back
I had to stay the night and write the wrong tack
And maybe later get on the right track
...
...
So she looked at me
And I looked at her,
And she said,
“Well I had this train of thought,
But it clean went out my head,
It was something to do with,
Something I read,
An untrodden path,
Where the treading now led,
I remember now,
It was something you said…
How did it go?” …
“I know”, I said,
“I said
Well I was on my way from a to b,
But right now I’m at zed”
…
So I looked at her,
And she looked at me,
And she said,
“Well I had this train of thought,
but it clean went out my head,
It was something to do with,
Something I read,
An untrodden path,
Where the treading now led,
I remember now,
It was something you said…
How did it go?” …
“I know”, I said,
“i said...
Well I was on my way from a to b,
But right now I’m at zed”
…
...
Where I wrote the wrong poem, by mistake
The idea broke, and I followed the break
I got further and further, and further, away
From anything I ever meant to say
I got so far I couldn’t get back
I had to stay the night and write the wrong tack
And maybe later get on the right track
...
...
And where were we?
We were just around the corner from the confusion
A few yards from the perplexities
Next door but two from the uncertainty
A bit up the street from the ums and the ahs
Down the hill from the befuddlements and the bewilderments
And you know err…
...
So it’s much better than yesterday
We’ve come a long way since yesterday
Where were we yesterday again?
We were in the big barrel of bloated red herrings
Further and further away from the solid ground
Bloody miles from the high point
And just about to enter the darkest of dark dark windy valleys
With all manner of labyrinthine whichways or whatways
On our way to the most lightless of lightless caves
...
...
Where I wrote the wrong poem, by mistake
The idea broke, and I followed the break
I got further and further, and further, away
From anything I ever meant to say
I got so far I couldn’t get back
I had to stay the night and write the wrong tack
And maybe later get on the right track
...
...
So we looked at each other,
And she said,
“Well I had this train of thought,
But it clean went out my head,
It was something to do with,
Something I read,
An untrodden path,
Where the treading now led,
I remember now,
It was something you said…
How did it go?” …
“I know”, I said,
“I was on my way from a to b,
But right now I’m at zed”
…
...
Except I wrote the wrong poem, by mistake
The idea broke, and I followed the break
I got further and further, and further, away
From anything I ever meant to say
I got so far I couldn’t get back
I had to stay the night and write the wrong tack
And maybe later get on the right track
...
…
[back to top]
…
…
…
…
me Maury and Guvan drinking the exotic tongba
…
…
an exotic and venomous guest at breakfast
a Nepalese Pit Viper
in a small low tree three-feet from the breakfast table
yet only spotted after i’d eaten
…
…
…
main image is composed of six pieces already in The Bucket
while here’s a new one
which goes live on Tuesday the 1st
…
