You would have thought that at this time of schism in the Church of Rhyme, the stumbling rhythm and light unmasked in rainbow prism.....that I'd be through with all this this of that of what and thing - that I already threw with towel and grammar in the hat, in the ring.

Yet, still camping with intent in the embers of the Members Exclosure, I brake and clutch at cliche straws blowing the the Dylan wind - still erecting and correcting the poem fallen in the.....Oh well - never mind....but pumping up - now here it comes - there! just where I was just now, not quite, but almost, almost nearly was.

Please take this soft option, and never tell beyond this still warm and crumpled page, how much you know of me - or how it really was for you.