there’s a hole in my bucket

by c.w. williams

Posted to Poetry on 2004-03-03 13:51:00

I’m jogging my memory
to exercise my mind
trying hard to remember a time
when the future was a dream worth sleeping for.

But my brain is sick,
rife with ill-logic
that makes my stomach churn
and hurl this prose upon the page.

I’m straining for 20/20 insight
but wandering blind
through the catacombs of cliche
that wind their way through ordinary mountains.

And it’s days like these I realize
I’m just another sailor on a great ship,
leaning over the rail
and pissing in the ocean.