April 25, 2014

light of day

wit of single intelligence
that's all I'm thinking bout
rappataptap on the walk side
I sense a beginner
or since, people's paces in the station
pay mathematical attentions

what a hairy old man cactus
sticking like a sore thumb
a desert microphone

need not know everything at any moment
all that remains are plans of plans
in my task list
                      no compute  r
                      the occasional stuck key
                      he must've thought
                        forget me all everything
                               leave me to my worries
                      and boy how they are many

pal,
I am left
only assurances
take me along
he makes hearts pitter-patter

Yet I'm not up for that vicious number
He done no wrong, draws down fog in his mind.
I am bored with the horror of brutes and fools.

I should be held together with my poems.
Not in a hell, not fully csarred.
The knight-errant went home at dark and polished his sword.

-- Erm.

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