(This is a poem that I wrote literally while driving to San Francisco. I have always liked it for its beat/rhythm but I have never been able to finish. Feel free to add/remix.)
Quick pick trips to San Francisco
Gambling on gnashed teeth, wet ears,
and white-knuckled breath
held out on upturned palms
in a sacrifice to the gods of ecstasy and self reliance.
Created: Feb 11, 2010writersblock Document Media