A Short Walk in Three Acts.

        (1)
Another trip
Another trap
Atop the planet,
Worried, so hurried,
Skating thin ice,
Arms and legs going goofy,
Windmilling for balance,
Stopping from toppling,
In sheer silent fury.

        (2)
Pausing,
Under touring skies,
To breathe in
Painted fresh, fresh, frescoes,
Relentless brush-strokes,
Dripping from your eye-line,
Murals from your mouth,
As clouds your sunset shroud.

          (3)
Readied now,
To journey home,
And realigned to
Bow.

catch them while you can...

bright ideas
lurk
in darkest thickets,
prone to prowling,
focusing their prey,
their sinews itching but
biding their time,
staring you out...

Pouncing,

headlong into your psyche,
letting you deflect them
or forcing you to face them down,
devour them whole or
consume a fleshy bite,
in this fight or flight,
for the right,
to feed afresh

from the dying carcass of your mind.



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