ludic verbosity for the win
POUNDing out the miles/kilometres, I hit a
CLUMP in the road, bump both knees more than a bit and need a
WINCH to pick me up and place me in the ambulance. Now, instead of walking down the
AISLE I’ll be in a state of somnambulance.
CLUMPs of dirt! Call this a yard?
POUND is barren patch,: narrow kennels, narrow
AISLEs. A twitchy border collie is evolving, starting to invent:
WINCH to get everybody over the last fence and outta here.
CHAFF into the troughs–he’d be happy to have a portion.
LOWLY station, it was always his, but he was proud, blind to self,
SWORE to make his own way, live by his own lights.
PAPER scraps are a welcome find: time to write his father. Might he forgive?
CLUMPs of hills form a natural
AISLE, Earth’s own processional path
POUNDed by rock and rain, its call a
WINCH to pull the heart to itself.
See more at Notes by Steven.
DEVIL has no horns,
MURAL won’t hold his image. Only fallen boundaries show his presence.
SNEAK thief brags he got away, yet devil shadowed; more than property went missing.
LEGGY burlesque dancer can’t recall the moment devil misstated her worth.
MURAL of temptation as expected–
LEGGY seductresses in red dresses,
DEVILs with horns and forks–while the real things
SNEAK by unnoticed in the background.
See more at Notes by Steven.
GLAZE over, mine eyes, while my heart grows
FLINT. That others should choose to
STOOP to such tongue-wrenching
ABUSE is no reason for me to join them.
GLAZE catches eyes on pot shards in current stratum,
FLINT and microliths wait at deeper levels,
STOOPed volunteers brush and catalog, will for years.
ABUSE kept at bay, this dig is by the numbers.
ABUSE and injustice’s victims find no
FLINT-hard heart in heaven, no
GLAZEd eyes dimmed by indifference, unwilling to
STOOP for the poor in spirit.
See more at Notes by Steven.
TACIT for 200 bars, I read, and
WRING my Bass Clarinet hands.
TODAY, it appears, I’m forced to
DWELL in the wasteland of military bands.
