i’m topsy-turvy
or all sprawled out
like somebody’s been hit
upside the head
by some proverbial brick
hewn from leftover gloom
or pressed from muddy malcontent
but nevertheless
lobbed into the hapless throng
by unhappy circumstance
where it chanced to meet my jaw
— smote me where I stood
sent the ceiling sailing
the hours swimming —
undiluted and diffuse.
If not the gnat then the horsefly keeps the company at my side in the tall hours of the afternoon: one born of future’s fancy; one sprung...
Trip down memory lane where the steady step staggers nimble grace quakes atrophied and sluggish or simply swept off in the wake of time...
the old women’s summer seeps onto the city spilled honey waiting to be wiped away the dishrag night cold and clammy schemes from out...
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