you're the icing on the cake on the table at my wake

So long, January 2006. And on to the Gray Beast of February...

so we're supposed to write a poem for the writing group, or bring in an old one. here. I'm going to write one right now.

An Emotion Expressed in Poetic Form

hydraulics sigh
from within pulmonary caverns,
a shivering ressonance that tightens the chest.
no room for spelunking-
the heart has swollen with lymph
and pus
and all the ugly things you don't want to think about when you're dying.


Eat it.
I'm going out to buy bananas. Because I can!