TOOL-HOUSE MAUSOLEUM

and underrated moment comes

when I have nothing left to say

I’ve sprayed enough spittle from these

well worn fingertips to split the lips of

a thousand readers and its not enough

to boil masses alive with sly treatments and

wry incremental bliss I’m aside myself

beside myself with associative chiseled

frisky felt tipped craziness

and its ENOUGH at this point to feel

like enough is enough and maybe

I should put the pen down a while and

focus on life’s other numerous trials

but part of me knows that I’ll be back

sooner if not later

to this wellspring of inspiration spent

a gentleman’s crypt for burying the

god damned hatchet

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