Dot the T's, Cross the I's
Something Different
Vision blurry… been up all night Scribbles in a notebook furious Desperate to get something right Sunlight peek-a-boo Through the window-blinds Dot the T’s, cross the I’s Monkey in my mind Swinging from thought to thought Little white pills, eyes open wide Chided by crumpled page, chided by coming dawn Line after line Dot the T’s, cross the I’s Hysteria nestled in, delusion coming on Don’t trust the pen, it moves too much But to trust too little would be also wrong Let the public figure for themselves … they’ve a mind of their own Dot the T’s, cross the I’s Excuse me, I don’t think you understand Not sure what you came for But it won’t be found on common land Pistol shot rings, the poet is dead Was that a sneaker-squeak, or a bird-chirp, or a marching band Dot the T’s, cross the I’s