Vagabonding with others woe to behold.
Visceral samplers tickling tempers tuned
to triggers pulled from the crowd. A
hand
in making the most of a foot in the
grave.
Under suspicion of skin. At a cost of
inklings crumbling in the knowledge. By
any measure deemed modern to a purist
sense of touch, gone mad with burlap
for the right to feel nothing at all.
Pitting
proof against the pendulum for the swing
shift of fortunes, made to do their
dance
in a trickle down to
tacks. A perpetual
likelihood of odds
evening out. Priming
footprints on the
floor to feeling able to
walk away on a
cushion of sunsets.
Stalemating with
ancient urchins of the
dirt, to propagate a
brooding scowl
framing an issue to
suit a shiver at the
thought. At the behest of dimensions
invisible to the science of the time.
Harnessing the sparkle in an eye, for
equivalence in the pall of blinks and
blemishes in the dark. Holding fast
to the slow burn, a stumble’s
redemption in the fall for
gravity’s primacy in the
end.
Action
Maquette
What
comes so small it makes giants of us all.
Mired in
commas putting stutters to the test.
A
stippling of a little this a little that breaking
precedent
in for the long haul. To a t crossed
getting
to the z’s. One non sequitur after the
other,
corralling the tangents for the journey
back home
on the range. The breadth of a
point
made to linger. A collateral haunting
conceding
wealth to the emptiness of
hollowed’s
gift for resonance. Swinging both
ways of
the world. Subsequently without
pause as
an excuse. Thus the page turns on
itself.
Having once but never again. Effectively
mirrored
in place of being quoted as saying
in
pictures that wobble the mind. Down
south of
a feeling for what makes the
silence
tick. The doorbell ring for both you
and the
you you want to be. Or so the song
goes
oompah loompah within the gutted
carapace,
over the crippling hysteria of
the
noise.
