discover that poetry br are mere feelings, others br who succeed at this br craft have nothing br to tell really, br falling out of logic br and taking side br with images br like a slide show of br children's pictures br with their overprotective br mothers in br fantasy land, br riding on teacups and br having pleasantries br with Alice br in Wonderland, br br know that poetry is br a crutch, a dam of br emotions, to protect br the fields of corn br below the belly of br the great river br of destruction, br br you write more with br a numb left arm now, br the fear spreading br on the chest, as the hour br gets creepy, and br threatens you with br a sad goodbye. br br there is a rush here br to take the bus br you're late for almost br every appointment, br it is raining and you br have no umbrella, br you step inside br only to find that br the heel of your right br shoe is broken. br br fear has more to offer br now, than love and lust. br br and then, you keep on br writing about it, br as though, words can br help.br br RIC S.