Half Full Circles

Raping paper and wasting ink Attempting to bag the bubbles I think, Or thunk— but I stunk or I think— that I stink— Like the ship this drunken captain will sink. As I crack the bow with my eyes as I blink. Will I not be one with the Zen in this pen before this cartridge is empty again? For I’m out and about and the words in my mouth keep tumbling out like bumbling clowns— Spinning unsound and dancing around till all of the clowns fall down on the ground, Which resembles the paper that I’ll sign like a waiver when I try to be clever and write it down later— Wasting more ink and raping more paper.