Tense Strings


3/13/08 -- 8/28/08 

Poems

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So I'm hopeless
not epic,
or full of win.
My fingers
pluck tense strings.
Some good thing
may still happen
with a softly
strummed chord.
Not done yet.
Could be better,
or worth it;
full of reward,
like a bowl
of fresh strawberries;
cream covered eyes
closed, day dreaming
of some other time
when things mattered.

An arpeggio's
appropriate here.
Bass part is softer
so we can walk
in the direction
of the sound hole,
and fall through.