there's a whatever
for each poem you write -
and it sounds like a
surd of each onomatopoeia
cashiered for a filter
queue of banked on
reminiscence of shackling
that waste of time
known as noontide;
grandpa hub'ah hub'ah hooray!
take a flaky make a tendril
quickening for a kite!
and so loose! the kite gave way to
a thought of full orbit -
while the noose was but a thread
waiting for a snapping to excavate
a freely gesticulating something or other.