Around the rooms

An untidy gloom

And here I sit ...

Having none of it



Writing the heady thoughts

Instead of being caught ...

In the never-ending loop ...

Of climbing thru all the hoops



For, what does it win ...?

... Just starts a new spin

A round of deep confusion

Of ultimate contusions ...



Where the skin smarts

Darken'd in parts ...

In time, though, they're erased

... To return in another place ...



- Tristram



(c) Christopher W. Thomas

11:22am Monday, Sept. 28th, 1998