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Corkey Hawley Apr 2010
I wrote this poem
the other day
Now I can't find it
Anywhere
I've looked
in my notebooks
and all over
my desk
turned inside out
all of the rest
everything that
I care
about
I wrote it
when I was ******
Now I can't
Find It
I think it was good
Or at least
well honed
As far as I
can remember
It seemed
Worth
A BONE
UOPS
(You Obviously Pissedoff Someone)
It's a beautiful confusion
From one simple conclusion
I made up on the spot
My life has changed equivocally
And here I find myself
...
:\
a little
              Lost.
It's a beautiful confusion
It's a mess up in this noodle bowl
Of wet spaghetti, out here trying
To just
           Figure it out dude,
Jesus Christ!
                Just stabin' with a fork for thoughts,
Trying to get em to wind
But they just keep slipping off
And falling back in line

-But also-

Like Spaghetti Junction at I-20 and 35 (that might be just me
Who calls it that, but it fits the mind
That locked it in. A six year old old boy, visiting his dad in Dallas for the first time)
A mass of twisting tangled lanes merging in chaotic looping interchanges, where ideas collide and collude and rearrange like pissedoff commuters late for their day
Throughexits and on-ramps and flowing freely at times and stopping dead still for an hour or two every day, twice a day
...
and when it rains
...
Or when it's too full of vehicles
to fit in the lanes;
'cuz you can only fit so much material
in a physical space. And a brain is thing
That really needs a case.
So it's bounded and confined
by the number of lands it can build in any direction
so it gets backed up from to much traffic trying to merge and hitting brakes,
and it echos back through the increasing stack of moving parts in red light cascades and honking squealing compression waves.

So it takes time to clear the line sometimes
To get the thoughts moving and grooving again.


But like... both
... At the same time!?!
That one came out good ;)

— The End —