Dime Store, Damn Store

I haven't had much time to work on my poetry and fiction during these Covid-19 days that have stretched into weeks, months, and . . . fears of years? But time won't wait for me, so I can't wait for time. I have to keep practicing the combining of words with rhythm and rhyme. I did that last year, and the number of limericks reached 106, not counting the poems that didn't deal with Extra Pound, nor the poems that were not limericks, obviously. Here is a new one, a limerick, though not of Extra Pound:

Differ a Dime's Worth?

Once upon a local, standard time,

a man took pen up, rhythm to un-rhyme

of every rhyming couplet

from every rhyming bucket

'cept bucket-couplet rhyme, not worth a dime!

How does that sound? It's not terrible, I think. But I need another project. That way, I accomplish something of substance. Arguably.

Insight: One does not write a poem; one finds it.