So that is a number I have reached
and though I sit down with no goal
each time, just unfettered ideas
that tumble and leap across
my knuckles incorporeally,
I must continue.

Something drives this project from
deep inside my heart, yearning for
that time I wrote as if nothing
could stand in my way, attempting
to capture it anew, that perhaps
these ramblings may attach to
a drive that cannot be shook.

So I will persist, I will travel on
with putting out speedrun pomes
and maybe, if the gods, stars and
planets align, I shall become that
author I longed for when grammar
was something that happened
to other writers.