Surrender bones, I'm waiting...
Reginald I'm sorry. The blitz
comes subterfuged. The light
comes underheeded, the blank
falls underused.
Query the digits,
marry the quagmire, dally
the derring-do
it's for you, to
disable and enable as you do.
The working man's blues, to sing
and not to beg - the plate that's full
is empty where you lay.
Begone
the culpable grading you invite,
responsible for what is right,
you are the spark-son ameliorating foreign sleight.
Let the lawyer's speak for themselves you say
as if you'd found a way
already taken;
the epilogue of seems is
believing, not fact
in black and white—
there are no final chimes
to justify,
only intention
to climb
empty air
as if
it's a mountain.
Nomenclature D, it seems,
is but a cover
for something more
unfathomable
in your dreams,
the thought that you are reaching,
in your scheming, different
frequencies.
You fall below
by choice, you know, and every
bitter crop is there to
ride you higher back
so you may know
what others know
inside your hat...
Alignment, so you say
'cause words can only play
about a board game ready
to commence
—senseless recompense—
a juridicial fence,
the laughter and the loneliness
you miss...
So where go I? To the sky
to pull down petals
of unending reply,
sanctified as solid
in the earth's
immortal gyre...
Who am I to know? The grassgrows
fire of an innocent illusion,
love is never the worst thing you can do
to express,
but hatred for yourself
must be redeemed.
Right to write? Rite. Releasing
is beginning, constriction
comes from fear, everyone
is here to mark the year
you called yourself
free...
echo-sense, marked private
