Scribbling words up at night I stay
Half ideas and rhymes coming at the end of the day
Thoughts and lines of things to say
Come morning I’ll throw them away
Oh, if only this were true. But at number 241, close the two thirds mark, the horrible truth is that I have abandoned precisely one poem as irredeemable this month. And I've got it by my bed in case I have an idea to make it merely terrible in the middle of the night.