vpoet, re:

Enter:
Him, the lone surveyor,His hands tightly claspingan object of no significantvalue.
Him:
Why do my handswrap so around this,as though, through holdingthis, I may somehow graspand grab and have and melt intoits stillness, its calm? I cannot.This object, this, in hands,I know not its worth, outsidethe monetary (momentary) gain from whichI have given another, and,yet, I [...]

Your hands, more clubs, blunted, held out as to reach close only for need of nourishment; Your eyes, open, all of you within them, wanting only a moment’s passing ‘to the next; Your nose, visible, covered slightly with an aura, held for need of where to be; Your lines, arms, thick-pelted with the food, the [...]

but i’ll be around longer than the words can be spoken, and, somehow, i’ll know whether you’re right, and you’ll know whether i’m right, and we’ll go our separate ways enough to meet at the end of the world, never turning around, but comin back just the same.

His is a belly, which, upon waking, tells him what he’s missing, whether through touch, through warmth, through the crisp-chill of winded blankets/sheets, or through the bacterial grunts of, “fooood..”

What you should have no knowledge of is how simple life and living are. Yeah, they are the same thing, but there are more, too. To say one is the other may seem ludicrous, but living is death is life is birth is hope is salvation is comprehension is universality is peace is [...]

Gravity:
The bottle tipped over– Gravity won.The bottle stood still– The bottle defied gravity.The bottle tilted a bit– Gravity struggled.
Gravity is bullshit. What goes up must come down, unless what goes up does not come down. Motion leads to motion, unless motion is stopped. You know, the laws or theories of this realm [...]

I once believed the world was round. Now, I see the world is bending, perfectly aligned so you may not see everything at once, a sort of triangular spiral; though, I might not be entirely sure of the positioning– are we near the opening end, the closing end, or between both, or is there [...]

i want to be as miniature; amongst the dandelion’s greyed flower, watching and striving to hold on as the wind-lifted florets find their way on streams unseen in air, as voices so often do.

I read a story today; more a headline, really:Wild Bees And The Flowers They Pollinate Disappearing Together.While a study in Britain, the word may spreadtoward the cities, the streets, the neighbor’sOf the colonies, toward the parks, where the lastwild flowers spring to be bladed bythe last of the green grass let roam free, alonewith the [...]

such candy’d liquor, this, a bandabout the view of new-laid sand,dust but wayed on line, a level seen,though lost, with wanderings.