Cranky
rants in cyberspaces
anger sucking air efficient
as the carburetor rushing
in where stand the bone-hard
statues loneliness exclusion
long-worshipped in the land
beside my handy small-held
block where soil bears the
year round where animals right this
minute hold my face
in high esteem it dissipates
the steam of somewhere virtual
the other real un-me the
place
where fury tends to be to glow attract
these wordy reveries
below my hand the soft fake velvet of
five layer rugs the
small strewn bodies
the distance of the morning
electric land ameliorates
to sand
ReplyDeletebarely animate
like a tree branch
murmurs into space
waiting for an answer
Mr S you breathe these stanzas out. I roll in them, hoping not to break their spines.
Deleteand wherever we are
ReplyDeletewe're not
isn't that just the best?
DeleteI'd stay below the soft fake velvet with the small strewn bodies :)
ReplyDelete