the perpetual re-birth/death
wheel of fortune's price is right
just as the bird in the hand
is worth two in the bush.

kiss the reflection in the river
and feel the cold
sloshing down your throat
as thickening liquids
quicken quibbling piglets.

shivering slivers of
saccharine mashugana symphonies
sing slightly slowly as temporal tyrants
tinker totally titillated ties as they sit
at a time in a box paradox paradox.

the keys are in the trees if you please.
patience is a breeze in the leaves,
so slow down and breathe it with ease.