I have ideas in this thick skull
A pretty penny often lost
When they asked my favorite poet
I just stammered Robert Frost
I'd go halfway 'cross the ocean
And the length of a middling sea
Just to carve a better path
To my latent fantasy
But my pillow clenched so tightly
Gives me a headache still
At the bottom of cruise liners
Gazing out the windowsill
The fallout from all the flashes
In all my notebooks that are pans
Have eradicated necessary people
Teachers, contemporaries, fans
I sail a stiff paper ship
Out in my unforgiving ocean
Of land and of my own desire
I hold no knowledge, frame of notion
The world has all been bottled up
Here I am to make it sell
I've been bored with sheets of paper
And this is what I tell
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