Un-named

I want to write
But words
Tremble within me
Then die.

I dig through my memory
For experiences
For verse
But all I find is gooey morass.

I yearn to rise
Be the best
But the force
Eludes me
A phantom.

There they are
The first buds of spring
Or is it a mirage
The sightings of a deluded soul
















8th February 2008