The moon slides above contact. You know the feeling. Fine-tuned Straining at engagement with a weighty parish-flourishing in obese dark stabling oboe of time looks like cursive to your eyes. An optimal space between words agitates in lunar regimen. It must take time to be ordinary. Seating cannot Be fooled. Words practice vagary for your base schrod. Not your problem, however. Just Reanimate time with floral approval. A sentence can't free infrared, the basic fees resist. Watch the moon stop being in the space where meaning once held. Fanatics will poise again, making infractions part of life in 11/4 time. Another month, another meant, another slight green thing in the light. And you the consequence.
poems, fireflies...
Comments
reanimate the ordinary moon
straining to be
the feeling in a sentence
of cursive words agitating
lunar fanatics to flourish
between the weighty eyes of light
poised to resist being fooled
in the dark, just for once,
by contact with the obese part
of a consequence,
and you.
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