vpoet, re:

The clouds’ applause trembles air to feet of twitching;“You Know What To Do,” they mumble-grumble/strike to me.“Yeah, yeah— You really are persuasive, y’know?You don’t have to answer that.” A conversation ‘mongst the towers unseen for shelter’s shelterrages in calm, tapping showers brought and bringingsense to edge of cliff a’bashed with ever-tidal tidingsof sweetest elements’ harmonies. [...]

Beyond the chit-chat, sit-back, relax talk Mom initiates,I fumble in thought andforget to speak when spoken to—They don’t seem to mind, though they may bepolite in their inability to open me.The pace-cold sweat from pit of armreminds the mind the world is before,not just inside and I smile to match theirswithout knowing why except to [...]

“Can’t you fucking see they’re waiting for us?Can’t you see the light is green,but the van refuses to move?Why are you just standing there? Here?We can cross!”I rush my legs to catch this thought—The light flicks red against the hood of some other carand I feel my heel trip in air but escape the oncomer—Mom [...]

I trippedwhile retrieving this,letting my thoughts,like a calling,stumble my wayas Iforgot the hamper was behind me. Prior, Ishaved clean mysoul patchand began to ponder,“what should be written?” The stalling of a parking lot’s progressmimicked me for a second—the fidget of eyes—and, within that epiphanic second, Ifound solace in the ruled-blue pagesof this draft.

for all i’ve done, i know you wouldn’t knowhow many cells in this brain hold memories ofyou and not of being there, not being able tounlock these chains of in-security, obstacles inever thought about all that much until youbrought freedom to this servant of thoughtunlit and shining with reflections reflecting fromyou,    you,        you, i blame the [...]

there was an atticlimping/lifted, i crawled the stairsto find the memories forgotten yet thereyet in this mind’s eye they will never leave for i know them too well;the roundness of the plastic,the bucking of the horse,the little lamb’s words so comforting still in this attic,this compartment box opened and sprawled with heat,in this attic laid [...]

these sweat’d flakes of ice fall prey to finger’s tidyngs,making art in art so clear,pushing from place ’til image nearsand fallen these eyes become,as relenting thought’s forcingsbreak ‘part the ‘cicles,paving way for unpump’d heartin journey from fill’d to froze to molten start.

with these       whisper-wing’ed,                           lacklust’ words                                i find nothing                                        is as safe                                                in breeze                                                    as mind.