words to ether,
rhyme set on the winds.
what is needed now..
to break the rapid fires flow..
words come to nothing,
weary heart hears naught.
but the brachycardic
thump-thumping of
banal poetic bantering.
synapses, slipping, sideways,
into creative slumber.
ten and ten again,
ringing zen gongs, abide,
within,without,withall,
drowning the charismatic
chaotic, tidelike cleverness
of a thinking brain.
time is bought and sold,
in streetmarket stalls.
by spending precious pennies,
and bartering intelligence,
for slow, mudane,urban thoughts.
words to ether,
to mist, to fog,
blown to the ends,
of the earth.
to twist and turn,
and begin again,
as.... a sigh,
a whisper,
a stutter,
a keening in a soul,
a stroke upon a parchment,
a daub slashed on a canvas,
love etched into a heartstring,
a proclaimation allowed an utterance,
a life made a little more whole,
by kindness spent in letters.
written on a sigh of mercy
and sent forth, from the mouth of peace.
these are simply,
the motes of poetic grace
