Circa 1986?

Broken, Broken, Broken

If gold was found in uncollected lines

And in some broken chain of thoughts,

I would be the William Shakespeare

That all the future generations taught.

Sometimes the only way to understand

What it is I believe and think

Is not to deconstruct the man

But to read with a tall, stiff drink.

I'm looking for something to take with me

And a notebook to take my place,

Shattered signposts which all will see,

But none will be able to face.