I was inside Robby’s head (from the novel On Standby) and was attempting to describe what he felt in that frame of mind while stumbling through the rain. These thoughts were on the page almost before I knew that I had typed them. What followed next, in the novel, was even more astonishing, considering.
Since, I’ve added several other poems and restructured the piece into three parts, Early Times, Middle Times and Sometimes. I’ll continue to add, mostly to the last section, as time goes on. I do not consider myself a poet. So I guess I should just call these attempts. Some of the concepts are interesting.
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