From the mind of a flying beaver (I know you're sick of them already)...
If I only knew
what to do
with you,
poem,
I'd write an ode or a villanelle or a sonnet.
No, um,
Actually I wouldn't write anything, darn it.
Why?
But I
would try
to
write it through
if I only knew...
Copyright © 2002 by R.E. Dorsal and Bewildering Stories.