rising sun in single pour
it's not much to be
when the oasis is growing
it doesn't bother the molecules
they create more than expected
they fly when they moon, glow when they cheep
the matter of flying. that's a hat. flying the cataract
each side tests the other
finding stats over counters
don't matter
a toothpull away and less centered
picky with cross buns roasted with cream
none in the bowl just an almond of bee
don't mind the pee
nor what cats do at night
flushing holes for feed, beasts for trees
lads take up the staff. the holes ain't trying
when laughter takes to the cleaners
one hole after the next. there's none for buying
some dress rehearsal. a spy in the making
reading writes each rong
a sucession of preaches
circles sideways under the mirror
it's time to go but you don't know
always better to dress than to feed
a bowl of silence shadows sideways
no noon explosion. the dark still shining
an oboe elbows away
dreaming and whying and crying
sounding like dying the kindle removed
no sense in trying the spindle optical
wandering circles in tricycles
sheds know better but you don't
a piece of the pie is all you want
i'm not bitter. just optical.
some specialty of god created asshole
though not meant that way. the way it's written
is some specialty furnace. some funhouse
a counterpoe wake away
a countermeasure
one by one bits type off
a lesson in ending
words fade off
lights flicker to shade
disappears without a sound.
denis streeter 7/31/19
