The low howl of the computer fan could be anything by this time
the pervasive cycling rephasing of a single engine plane I’m in
the deep growling rephasing of a motor launch passing on the river
the multitoned hiss growling whine of a street sweeper
but to my dismay it really is the uninspiring rolling slightly rephasing
purring of my CPU, singing to me as I contemplate the fact that
it is eleven minutes to deadline and I have nothing to publish today
a centepede slithers by like a tiny snake without skin: all exoskeleton
the carpet is as empty now as my brain. I guess a review, revisions
of my blog to set up yesterday’s new review and the new feature poem
and commenting on a few WritersBeat articles/poems has drained
all my fuel for today. So here is poem 101, not a course but another work in
a daily sequence, totally devoid of merit. Sorry you had to read it.
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