.

Cryptic syllables
create a thought stream
running dry along
pebbles and broken glass
from the mountain tops
echoing questions
               cascading downhill
following the path
set out by scattering
seeds of doubt
from an empty back pocket
wanting something more
than the aftermath of lint’s
                            fuzzy ideas
and ripped cotton sheets
hang upon a line of rope,
taut from tree to tree
stringing out the hopes
of a simple poet
seeking a shady spot

             to disappear “           “