when all the bells have toppled silence and on the breeze rides a summer of stammering stunnery the likes of the color blue on stilts
snagged in the sun’s corona.
like a fish on a hook of sunshine, thought he saw a worm of real life
but got caught in the vaporous torrent of his weakness.
savoring the dawn like a mushroom mottled in fresh dew
twinkling in the circus of fecundity where the thrum of glory
spoils the view of a curmudgeon and marches on into destiny’s *****
in the clutches of our habits and rabidly
living the dream that’s killing us.
how real can it get?
and is that real enough?
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 1:23 AM UTC
when all the bells have toppled silence and on the breeze rides a summer of stammering stunnery the likes of the color blue on stilts
snagged in the sun’s corona.
like a fish on a hook of sunshine, thought he saw a worm of real life
but got caught in the vaporous torrent of his weakness.
savoring the dawn like a mushroom mottled in fresh dew
twinkling in the circus of fecundity where the thrum of glory
spoils the view of a curmudgeon and marches on into destiny’s *****
in the clutches of our habits and rabidly
living the dream that’s killing us.
how real can it get?
and is that real enough?
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