Oswego Mornings

notes spin laps drift corners
my mind always racing
flags offered in caution
	ignored

music moves form while
writing empties my head
	absorbed

I don't know why…
not a plan
not a choice
I can't look up
can't look down
just delicately hold this leaky fountain pain
and scribble FAST
big letters into small words
misspelled so often for so little

maybe these dirt track scribbles will
make it through the edit grind
onto a dish
then a page

noise raced
rhyme ignored
rhythm sought

Copyright © 1986-2001 Thom Reid