Newesworthy
The newness
Sat in front of the computer and waited
A year ago, I would have said typewriter but time changes.
Looked at a blank screen
Struggling to remember what I had in mind
But my head had an echo like a dog bark travelling for miles
Only to drown by time.
When the war is over, and the foregone is forgotten
A writer will write what he thinks is original work, he
Like us has forgotten everything worth saying has been said
We write from a collective a memory
We are not aware of ever being written. Since vandals burnt
Every book in the world.
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