Non Sequitur of Humidity

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A frayed rope stretches garage to gate.  Albeit brief this time of year…

Newly freshened clothes limps the midsection anew…while the gestation of the blowfly magnifies the carrion’s count developing in you

Caustically cantering throughout the heavy haze

Loping about, searching for the shade of tree, to pause, replenish and reflect. To pretend, a breeze caresses moist each sect of throat. 

Cracked-earth effusing illusory. Steam billows from cleaved swell, disseminating the delusory—a striating course, distracted only by a rippling boil’s thrift of pace—autonomically evoking predicated pants

Life exists in the open

Yet into the artificial we

Go, ironically…to live

A parched environs.  Nuclei’s confound coherence with understanding.

Allowing moments of sweltering sweat, to shackle our worn and fickle flesh. Sheaths of aridity distort the breadth of breath 

From pools within, without we’d be…like the dog with splayed tongue, unaware, just how temperamentally distraught a dwindling summer can appear…amidst the confines & cravings of unwavering, humid airs

Over at D'verse, Manicdaily is hosting Poetics, and has offered up the theme of Summer.  Stop on over, definitely read her excellent article, and then enjoy the Summertime fare of poetry presented by the poets at D'Verse.  While you're there, you'll no doubt get inspired to write a summer poem of your own.  After you do, link it up and share with the others at D'Verse. Cheers.

Blind To Periphery

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Blind to periphery

Deaf to anything emitting estranged lips—

Hunting for verbs when a plethora of consonants writhe intangibly by the weeping wounds concealed by striated grief—

Feral and straying from the path that light guides feet towards—

Ignorance of enigmatic gates, ignorant of the ellipsis of never-ceding fate, you crumble softly upon the shield of those that fell first, in a shining misperception of self

Non-stop layovers

overstepping functionality

of shapelessness. Forms and

fragmentations sympathetically

frighten systems ever

skewered by the partitions

that stir connections between enmity and the ingratiated—

ever arching and over-reaching

spans and sprawls of doldrums

constructed solely to offer control 

to otherwise distortional groups of experimentation

that when sung, embellish all that’s pretty and pure,

creating caricatures too severe to ever be considered

anything more than pseudo-speak—

relationally inept monstrosities

 remotely kept to score the sensations of relations

as to what is, and bound to be necessity—all

too often these pronouncements purge within, the waves and turns

forever tumbling through the tumults in our acidic wake

When you are alone, the internal monologues

never seem to die—instead

words and dialectical compositions

continuously loop back and about

awry the confusing preambles retort—

triangulating the precipitation upon the brow,

and then appears, the invisible degradation, the corruption

of motility, the vagrancy of ability, in flux stasis, gyrating in solitary

confirmation, lens of laughter, peering at you through the shafts of radioactive thought processions, creating, haunting

the cyclicality of mood irrigating all paths to come, all ruts we’ve succumbed from.

Wolves Near

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There are wolves and they are near,

Legs stiffen and

Jaws gape

This.  Always.

My first decay

Come sit with me

Here, in virtual space,

Where the sidewalk

Cracks are tarred smooth-over

Cadmium bereft

Retracting the revolving

Tongue of the spackled

String

Of contracts and consequence

Predictive swarms cluster forming

the shape of dream

…and as the howls echo in the distant background…I still perceive each note, as if still beating within my chest