BEATNIK: A Poetry Collection

working beggar

each hour

was

a chunk.

one big

chunk of

my time.

a chunk of

my life,

lost to space.

after they

flew away

I'd crawl into

a corner

and weep.

from there I'd

fantasize about

how to get them

back.

it never struck

that time was

passing, that

I was getting

older.

as long as

I could dream,

youth could

be mine.

opportunity

could be

mine.

I'd always

believed that.