Tuesday, October 29, 2013

That Droplet on my Truth

Miss you and

the words. Claims

fall in nettle

bunch. Colours remain

strive. A patch of alternate

quick frequent bowing

sternly fixes redolent

patch. A

period powers


A stanza decides

a breath. People

include enumeration.

Glad tidings when all the baseball

teams win. This present is now

now. Now

the igloo now.

A poem and

anyway. We write our words

and words of

others. The present

becomes a stag or

feeling in the glare

of headlight.

A town precedes a sense

of misery. We

vote with our conscience not

our conscious.

A clicking

sound, like a whale

sound. Under-

neath is a brimful of

a whale in a moment,

breath. We think we

know. No, we

think we.

Today is a debatable


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