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.