#sociality
My errant root strikes through
the stagnant soils of lesser days,
the soil compressing and eroding
like the latest silly craze,
still compounding – mirrors shining
out kaleidoscopes of truth
onto the chyrons under youth from which
they read our misfit phrase.
Oft-cheated,
cut to bear rushed fruit out of the Mississippi self,
waters roll in play, though none who near it
ever boast its wealth,
for brash encounters with the renegade
on sacred runs to never;
faces foaming up with weather,
work the silt that they’ve been dealt.
A never-stay-too-long
“Don’t be a stranger” sing the strong
as weakness flees to food,
those chance encounters, croaking, rude,
awaken crises on a *******
Never fault the crafty sacker
for his blitz of attitude.
Can’t shift him -
what digs in will speak
- like roots -
alerting suits what realness tastes like
in the hours they’re not a hole made through us
so some sound might penetrate,
attract, relate,
and fire off into darkness
like the rockets painted with our name.
Your ground rules over game.
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 4:28 PM UTC