In the wild, a bird with a broken wing would die.

If i finished
all the things i started
fulfilled
all the the promises
i've made
and did
all the
things i planned,
i'd have
8 novels,
40 or so short
stories and probably
a few million
lines worth
of prose
with a home in Paris,
a home in vermont,
a home in melbourne
and probably about
sixty eight different
wives and
another eight
by the time
i was thirty
with God forbids
how many kids
and right
after i turned
thirty i'd probably
have to kill myself
because of
all the times
i swore i would.

In reality,
it's probably
a good thing
that most
journeys
don't finish,
or even begin,

but i'd
really like those
ideas for writing back
though.