i
stand
in
the
center
of
this
old
place
its
completely
bare
now
the
march
wind
&
rain
hit
the
uncovered
windows
someone
else
will
come
&
fill
this
space
up
again
that's
what
we
do
here
fill
holes
pretend
to
be
something
we're
not
but
we
can
never
really
close
up
the
void
w/in
no
matter
how
much
we
try
if
these
four
walls
of
this
stripped
down
room
were
suddenly
gone
i'd
be
pretty
much
the
same
just
a
wet
dog
howling
in
the
elements
to
some
this
idea
is
worse
than
a
bomb
Saturday, March 13, 2010
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This blog is updated irregularly and has nothing to do with the poet's output. The poet is actually disturbingly prolific. He writes about 5 poems per day. The pages are everywhere, even stacked in the bathtub.