Tuesday, 12 May 2020

On the Edge of Sleep




The only places known to be affected
Are the places made entirely of words,
But since these must exist within the mind
And on the page, 
They are easily divided into thirds.
And once split into three
They can be dealt with 
And the dreariest of scenes can be cut out,
So that what is left is better than expected
And nobody can tell what it’s about.
But one thing is for certain
I have known it,
Time and time again, to be the case 
That the places made of words
Are quite unchanging,
And the mind can always spot a dreary space
Made up of odds and ends of poor description,
Which makes these landscapes out of tiny fractions
And shies away from writing scenic fiction
Because it thinks it loves a man whose actions
Appeal to rugged types as well as nerds.


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