So now I've passed one hundred posts again.
It's something to be noted, one would think.
The dreams and visions I've leaked through my pen,
the blood and sweat I've used in place of ink,
have now produced this electronic stack,
a figurative ream of poetry
quite worse that those I did a few years back,
but still--if quality and quantity
are not entirely separate, I might hope
that perseverance will pay dividends;
that if I give my muse a nice long rope,
she'll trap a few fine thoughts before it ends.
So I'll continue cranking out the rhyme.
At least no one is watching me this time.