Line after Line

Lines lead to more lines,       

            but intellect is a train I must

            have missed in the morning.

                                                            (Fog only leads

                                                             to a thicker fog)

Stories without number,

            poems with unlimited feelings,

            and speakers that are eloquent.

                                                            (Where do I fit in this world of interpretation?)

Still, water pours

            into a glass

                        with no

                                    bottom.   

©  EXCEL

190 10/28/02; 11/7/02

Help!!  Get me outta here!!