That
jarring motion—
An
emotion of intangibility,
A
thrashing swathe of ambushed glee,
Gelid-frozen-numb
to all but thee
…Stranger
things have come to pass
Judgmental
and arterial
Walls
of clang—click, click, click-itsy-bitsy-clang
Spraying
nonce words along the river’s rhyme
Brae,
Brae, Bye Brae, Bye-Bye
Conundrums,
elegies—displaced—hammocking,
Broken in form, not in tone—slowly, waywardly
directions, slingshots blissfully— swaying through, garden gates and the ever,
almost haunting presence, presents of thoughts of you
Volumes,
large, small, slim and fat, broach the shelves—where hidden histories oft
collapse—to the tidal process of bookend failure, sliding just enough to get
the domino’s a-wobbling
That
Jarring motion—
Where
once you get past initial discomfort, hiccups either hurt or make you laugh.
To
those who draw the short straw, just remember, it will take you a longer time,
to sip the drink, which too, can either be, good or bad.
That
jarring motion—
When
insides ache
That
jarring motion—
That
drives sleep’s wake
That
jarring motion—
Some
clamor for—
That
jarring motion—
Others
abhor.
I for one, think being open to surprise
is both shock and fun.
