ANCIENT HISTORY
WRITTEN BADLY
BY MY HAND
OF ENDLESS SADLY
MELTING TEARS
ON MARBLE FACES
WHERE AM I
IN ALL THESE SPACES
WORDS THAT TITTER
TAT ON PAGES
IN BETWEEN MY
RANTS AND RAGES
PHOTOGRAPHS
OF YESTERDAY
THE LIFE I LIVED
AND THREW AWAY
SYLLABLES
LIKE NUMBERS COUNTED
SENTENCES
ARE FRAMED AND MOUNTED
MEANING THINGS THAT
BARELY MUMBLE
INTO SOUNDS
OF RHYME AND RUMBLE
Bobby Jameson June 2009