There is fun no
more in chasing believers of a flat in world in
circles. A  dry preacher, evoking hell.  
This journey always started with others
and ends with others wise ghosts watching
hoping to be seen as a ghost to have made
a footprint on the most trodden path.
Life without fear of it.
A magician with the knowledge
of an ace always able to come up
next yet I still bust.

The white marble embraces me,
the old white marble tries to embrace me.
Only seaweed floats.
A City of canyons built for climbers.
The fish saw death yet death waited off the hook
Better odds on the hook.
Now she’s
given her coin and
crossed the river
and I sit at the shore
confused at why
I suddenly care.