tranquil stenciling...

photo by Edward Rinaldi  ©

we beg in escape clause

there are great deals

for the kingdoms

beneath our skin

here are the

early warning signs

any odd behavior

apathy as a creative process

milling about

stuck in neutral

with a few jangled

coins for ballast

you sin

I sin

we win

door prizes

for our

humanity

there is

bale wire strung

to the LED lights

these tiny stars

push a sharp bright

into the growing din

of data-ized flesh

modernity is

collected machinery

communications and

selling points

everything is woven

painted onto muslin

covered stage panels

light-weight moral anchoring

whir whizzes around

in countdown persuasive

argumentative lodge poles

old maples and oaks

line valley cemetery scrolls

where souls get in

jump off

the registries

with ease

you hear words

from midnight

when you awaken

to the beat

of the beast inside you

a crow polish of sand

and the slow spit fires

of other souls

never dying

of mono theism

your body

is the base construct

we fill our spaces

with meaning

there are no instructions

only free will and

fated chances

in the rear view

I come to the information

to the stream

bending to drink now

at the precipice

of Summer

there is a smell

a raw earth scent

lifting the cold shudder

of Winter from my memory

and even if this is just

for a second or two

I am resplendent

in the tiny flowers

bottoming the moss

maiden to

veined to

vox populi

eyes are useless

in the high Sun and

warm parts

of a deciduous land

begging too

in every form

of return oscillation

elation

patient gathers

coat broods

bleeding wombs

and you stop me

insisting on words

twisted into

the bark

of trees

EJR ©