the smell of burning
ash on the breeze
flutters and fragments
counterpoint
the endless drift of entropy
melodies unchained
skittish, vectorless
randomly calculated
they obliterate
the ordained
perch on a kerb
rock back and forth
a false pivot
to the wind
to the seasons which
(if not deceive)
disperse something
true
ReplyDeleteTerrific mate.
all comes and goes
rocks back and forth
diminishing returns
till next time
the colour of ennui
ReplyDeletethe ash pitch for the rose
or near enough
ReplyDelete