Hmmm, there could be a poem brewing here.  The ideas are flowing through my head freely.  Perhaps I’ll fashion them into a form of verse.  I’m not sure what to call this form of verse.  I haven’t made up my mind yet.  I have to make a decision sooner or later.  It’s my verse; my style and now I need to give it a name.  No one will just leave well enough alone.  Everything has to have a label and now I’m supposed to oblige.  I’m supposed to brand and imprison the pure ideas that flow through my head.  Nah, I would rather just try capturing the quintessence into ink.  Try to register it as a written page.  That is an effort that carries me on the passage into night.  I slip through time on this continuum.  The ideas are elusive.  My traps are simply not good enough.  The foxes remain too cunning for me to defeat. . .

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allets's picture

Defeating Foxes Batman!

Cadensed prose m'thinks. :D slc 



georgeschaefer's picture

Do foxes hunt bats?

Do foxes hunt bats?