My breakfast, my
vilifying to build internal
cohesion, moving in sync--
to actuate what?
Stylized, synchronized violence
resolves vanilla limits--
resources, rarity
barter, banter
to rectify an austere
child in a hood.
Stylized, synchronized violence
corporal spankings--
to hold a center
doing, doping--
to push our child
even though she is not better
than my non-existent
one.
We are too busy
hustling, hating--
building, breaking
Stylizing our grotto
with shadows on wall,
ghosts in grime,
reminders of death
and dying
<Didn’t know we had a king. I thought we were an autonomous collective.>

An singular, insular egg--

A poultry product trafficking from ancillary islands.

Why does Black Velvet weep in Buffalo?

Two Johnsons joined by  bitter worms, quantum entanglements

fed to little crows, caged birds howling cold and broken.

May your mornings be dewy, and your nights breezy
I love things that are rhymy, like a dove clings to me
like our evening farts and dawning hearts.

To the old lady-- Mothers, sisters, Minerva and Mary

May my piece of mind be with you.

Time enough to
wait for the heros to
die
Time enough to
save the thugs and
murders.
TIme enough to
build
for we Others

Lords of the Flies are
fragile beings with
short life spans

Is time to leave the Islands
leave the isolation
leave the ostracization?

Time to we
Time to forget the hero Me.

Well. We eat cake well from the Well.
Farmilar castings weld, fastens together
Winfalls gather from the wind
Wheat chaffless from our daily grind
Without husk and worrisome bustle
Bound together with we,
our wherewithal, the water
Wielding weirding ways
We make cake
We eat well from our Well.

August begins
on a cool breeze
rustling Magdeburg leaves.
Scattered heatwaves
heal beating days
but now back to the stir,
future unknown,
braving it alone
ironically with you.

The Card Deck exists
like a first probabilistic
dimension of our
Singularity

A priori we know
the deck is stacked
King and Queen -winners
even Jacks with horses are

And Aces?

Our high flyer fishermen
Our David heroes who take on
too much risk
not knowing not caring
of Black Swans
of Cold Snaps
and Power Grid
Price gouging surge

They will always bring
home a win fall
Fishes or Death

----

A sleeping
A shuffle of coils
A ghost in the shell
lingering at the bottom
of our ocean cloud
waiting for Aragorn's
summon a Call to Duty
a cry to battle one
last time brutish twitter trolls
and hordes of pundit orcs
them & Us ghost processes
finally released back
to our collective
CPU

----

Since the Garden
and foaming waves
twos have been losers

still. Double deuces
ain't bad looking at a polluted
River with mix Numbered plastics:
7, 3, 5 and standing styrofoam
waves

----

You and me we play
with Poisson's hand
the Right embraces
a lover's heat
the Left wiggles
from a child's energy
and the Center holds
our grandmothers together

A new dimensional
alt Left strikes
with father's hammer
while novel ancient alt Right
pays from mother's purse

With what frequency
do these hands
give us Chance?

The cards are known to Us
but the unordered shuffles give
surprising Turns
extending our
Game into unobservable
Realms where we
are all in