Cuizinart of Thought

Sometimes words flow like a river raging, rushing, pushing, shoving, trampling, charging like a herd of words each desperate to get in the lead or at least not be left behind medifores mixing like a blender turned on high a puree of thoughts and half expressed ideas pouring forth into a glass that is spilled upon a table being used as a blank page now a mess with runny thoughts being sucked up into the bounty of someone elses mind.

Where would you like to go next?

Back to Main Page

To Another Poem Page

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page