Tuesday, September 16, 2008

What's Left of Me

No ones appetite is gone
but mine.
And that's the way of the world.
The sense of conjunction is blurred
We're all going to see this today.
Today, in the sense of "out there"

I'm just a little thirsty
Everyone's got a bottle of sand
to sell and I've got coins
outdated and coarse.

I am the last man standing
Everyone's still sitting
and swigging on what's left
of this poem

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