

Poetic Junk Sampler
Counting Hourglass Fools
A few words.
Half a part of hellos
Never a fugue that whirls into a nightmare.
A handful of pilfering glances.
Apoplectic shocks within your stance.
Unknown deference to your archetype
Non-absent penchant for your hand�s clasp
A whit of concern for the rippling world
Oh� nonchalance may I add�
A crescent moon�s light for blithe.
My reprehensible discourses.
You�re immeasurably oblivious
to my tacit ripostes.
Daily dirge for unresolved stares
Every morning after, insouciant again.
Erratic fortitude, have I got a grain?
Weekly nonexistence, only to return.
Incessant maidens pleading congeniality.
Light years from sanity.
My scarcity in understanding
Though you�re overflowing with such.
I solidly stop.
A visage tells it all.
Reflection, I am not.
Skittish poems.
Condign to be by your side?
Deign to my assumption.
A fabulist�s reveries
Of the indefatigable years.
Former internal requiems
Presently alleviated.
Eventual madness.
Eventually sane.
Pounded at crystals,
Pounded with might.
Glistens from the escaping, slurred light
From the now tired sun
Lying still while they daydream
-of moments of lightyears
daydreaming of scintillating its own light
a hand tilts it over.
Now they all move to a fill
Awaiting their turn, through the chute down to fall
Excited, still reflecting,
Daydreams soars, daydreaming even more
-having their own sparkle
as if from the sky
falling down
falling down
falling stars
Crawling from beneath
Every shadow and every form.
Slowly you take shape
As your audience do not come to pause
To hear your roar
As if you live, as if you breathe
In the same crisp air, they know life
Their life.
Slithering from behind,
Morphing from time to time.
As you slowly master their lines, their strokes, their signs.
Pretense� �so badly done
Parodist.
We laugh