A stapel river flows in Hyena
pack,
rivulets of laughing
data.

Twist a turn to deconvolute destituted
band.

From arterial ort to capillary
place
respires a quantal
love.

Quid non quo
flows,
trickling down in plain
flat,
in crevice crag, filling just
enough.

Fresh down to Mexican
border
town, in flooding estuaries, in fanning
delta,
it breezes meta confidence within six
Sigma.

There was the time I waited for a phone call,
and it came and rang.
There was the time I talked on the phone for hours,
and was happy.
There was the time I got annoyed at all the phone calls.
I just wanted to work.
There was the time I looked into the future,
and made appointments for other phone calls.
There was the time when the phone calls hesitantly stopped,
and I left it off, not hooked.
There was the time I waited for a phone call.

How do we do it?
How many quests?
How many fellowships
formed and broken,
going on to separate ways?
Doesn’t the heart rub a bit
sore after each parting?
Are we fools thinking
our’s the most arduous journey,
a long trek into Mordor,
to scale the heart of Doom?
Are we a bit of Merry weather
and Pippin riding on a shoulder
of an ancient forest?
Do we fight the Nazgul?
Are we foot soldiers
once more going into the breach?
We go truth be told
with no magic, no ring,
just cheerful Hobbits with secondsies,
snacks between full meal,
brief taste between breakfast,
and lunch, filling ourselves with joy.

Anger anger plot der Erde
Furrowing crease and knotted vain
von kingdom versus Kingclan comes
Manacle laughing yoke on us
Mocking a Himmel Wutand fuss
Angering Zion mount der sits
Angering clarion das Gesetz
Father begot as forgotten
Son asks me there for a kingdom
Casting iron tinted shadow
On a Klei nation listing fear
Enter a Son past prayering
Enter a wry Serpent on wrath
Breathing away perish belief
Blessing ember after babble

There are rules and protocol,
movements and routine
not quite episodic and semantic--
non-declared transition and rituals,
rounded manners distinct
from infinite loop
and routed inner biplane
hemmed to a sight line,
spiraling death down.
Earth or Spitfire flare dare?
Grounded embrace forever comes.
I move, postponing
and extending.
The declared break is now.
Airflow ripples,
and eyes tear.
Straining shear forces
reducing reasoned response
to instinctual joysticks.
Old, new, modified,
learned sticky
quirks of friends,
Lost love lingering,
switching *****,
adjusting yaw, pushing yoke,
subtle procedural affectations
stolen, infused in
to fly, bank, and escape.

EDEKA is a small grocery market here in Germany, and it's usually stuck between other shops. It’s like that where I go. Tucked inside a mini-shopping center, across the street from a Penny Markt there it hides. Before you enter, a flower shop to your left waves and tries to distract. I hardly ever give it notice, until today I had one of those flashback moments like an old hippie hearing a cool LSD trip laughing past him. I was busy thinking about work, and what food I needed to buy when the flowers flashed and a dormant trace flickered. And just for a nanosecond, I thought "wouldn't it be nice to get her some flowers today." Blue-violet iris came and went with the skip of one heart beat. It was easy to keep walking past into the EDEKA.

My hour on the stage half dun
Gone are days of limerick fun
Gone green dragon flying as Lark
Remembering ex-marine snark

In Hollywood bar, his heart trice
Failed, still caring drove to hospice
There, where days laid he on just one leg
Amputated cries, pain dared beg.

Yet after death lurked a grin,
A lark phone call to next of kin.
Frank doctor blind to ****** pun
Irate, berate to unkind son,
Spoke he with clenched fist did shook,
Asking who laments father cook.