Sometimes I retreat,
my feet strapped down,
my knees meet concrete.

I don't know what I speak.
Mumble, repeat, mumble.
A spelling stumble reminds me
to remain humble in a jumbled time.
Boxed up baubles, cobble together a bookcase.
Sort through, dispose, re-use,
erase distasteful fables, revised babbles,
scrap it all.

******* not meant to publish,
whisk it away with a quick wrist flick,
squeeze it out like a zit,
gargle and spit.