rusty

It’s the Disciple's turn to

walk out on loaves and fished

seeking benign solutions

to mottled-plague problems.

Time over-rules elegy and

despite this deep notation we’ll

be left with pottery and

praxis when gods come calling

in sand-storm chariots

>>>>

Tapistry as sophistry

Beatings as betterment

Corollary as carapace

Night as day

and deep moon-shine

spotlights to a patina play

>>>>>

I can’t drink this one away. Then it was

pints, now lattes does the different foam

have bearing on this current latitude or

more a circumvent rush to move

spice around dark horns and deep

insecurities. obscurity rears again seeking

to render hollow my crude attempts

at clarity – a vision dispersed between

cracks and marked un-reachable

through a twist of fate and metal

sheeting – You’re rusty again and it

shows.