…AwTwiHi-Ho (I) The Awakening, The Twilight & The hidden.

Duel- tacticionary.

Quite the perplexing plexi-glass, sweat ’til you can bottle it.

In the crampest cracks of temperate max, I’ve surely just forgotten about it.

These starts and crosses, The gleam and shine, The zebra crossing, The thin blue line.

The seven awaken, the twilight dwindles and burns. But the controls of the hidden

Takes four-five to learn.

I’ve stolen a fragment. Well Buckaroo. Inside the music of the well.

There’s fuck-all else to-do.

I’m so pecé, it’s still good.
Alas, sweet read. I dig your hood.


…Metapoetica (V) Fork in the Rabbit-hole…

Striking accord.


Oui, d’accord.
Discord works also…

In all the disjointedness they’d forgotten they weren’t set pieces.

…The Middle Ground (V) Hardly the time…

20150428_141627Interesting creatures
Adorable features
Unsure of their roar
As they howl ‘neath the bleachers

Speaking of seating
wherever their reach is
Keen when in breech of the peace
Just so long as it pleases    20150428_141642

What color should the third verse be
…Are you kidding?
I didn’t write a third verse.
There wasn’t time.

…The Middle Ground (IV) Meta-fields of Engagement…

20150422_192904 20150422_192924

In a fallow breath she captured his eye.
Imagining in a moment, a blink in his disguise.
The sound of the drums didn’t reach quite so far.
And what of the poet – Nevermind.

Spotter at perch, etched just-so.
A shadow of a shade, of a shot.
With all she has– these words are met.
‘How could you use a poor maiden so?’

In fallow breath, perhaps your last.
Ready to act, or steal your sight.
‘Tis child’s play to seek, but to hide?
Only the mark, and the marksman would know.

— the seagull? oh, he was just there…

…Flights of Fantasy (I) Fresh off the Wrist…

My fellow man rots so. The carrion birds do not cold-call in your area.
There’s a foul note amid this air. Fresh – not to be taken light.
It is the magpies, seagulls and blackbirds who’s presentation I miss.
A twilight delight. A call to their brothers in the woods.

I’ll not soon forget how the wood pigeons helped me pass my time.
Drop me a line– if you find any of mine.

When you’re not looking, he’ll touch you.

Spot him, he wont approach you.
Shine when you love him.
he puts you above him.

These words are my recycling.
Discord much to my liking.

Know the code he speaks, he speaks it through you all.
Such as the fall from the path you’ve been cycling.
A hike to some piffling unknown- Gosh — how exciting!

…The One you can’t beat (I) Alone…

More paces to follow –Assuredly

Daisy Chains & Strawberry Fields

Is it too much to say you’re not alone.

Understand this. I am nothing if not a contradiction in no uncertain terms.
Misinformation is so readily available that I’m determined not to cite, or properly source my outcry- finish my coffee get myself situated before plot>turns>river around and says… I’ve been struck by lightning.

That is to say…
I wonder about the human animal.
I am told that the umbilical cord was around my neck before my expulsion from the womb.
I have a complicated relationship with water– bury me at sea with a flaming arrow.

Suppose that Froid & Yung both slipped up.
You’ll sleep when you’re dead, because that sure as shit wasn’t a dream, kiddo.
but You’re not alone.

I think you’re weird for having tattoos. wearing shoes. and dodging the issue.
I’ll re-dress the wound — I skin my…

View original post 78 more words