Kit Kelen #1447 - swerve

1447

swerve

drought thoughts

notes towards another villanelle

the random array of words is how

things show up in odd places

dust is a little quintessence of mine

meaning already blessed

never twice, but here we are

performances all stand alone

and we are gone to this but other

of a dream – how?

each instrument its timbre, tone

call it colour, go to straw

swerve, you atoms – fall for rain

time’s come into our trap

consider its final and furthest extent

with hindsight I mean, the drought

and alphabetical no better

a moment is all consisting of now

please will you picture the dry

the river pans out

web said, I curled up in a question

coo, meaning is already known

bliss of a sun west breezed

home always somewhere else to go

writing runs together

a language smattering, so called

the heat is coming

cast far in the shadow

hours of it are long

dry words

as if could fill a sky

with falling

in pages of the day so strewn

a cloud is what’s gone by