Sunday, February 10, 2008


I would live on a desert island

alone with my thoughts,

a book of poems-

a pen that runs not out,

and paper to write;

I would live like a king

alone in the majesty of words

and not a drop of water

or handful of food would I crave;

though my body pines away

to the dusts of the air

I would live, content.




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