Not these prose that may bloom and become rhymes,
unreasonable times squared , how have i faired?,
Thanks for asking, work is taxing, the least,
Of my worries, is finding words,  flock!
"Bird by bird" where are the people that read,
without pillaging, without burning,  and
Purifying, some flash mob dance, rough draft,
This a loose assembly of words,

proof of  life, Though the Store was not minded,
Where are?,
the watchers, from
While, dipping my toe,
in a West Coast ocean, member
of the North of the 49th Parallel
Poets Brigade, Canadian, but not pure