Plausible Renderings of a Fugitive and a Vagabond


..
The world is flat
-out round
robin raving lunatic
furious downcast mad, I tell ya.

Shadows. Twigs.
Ash. We watch

for blaze blue skies,
divine protection, the
offerings and interpretations
of curious trees. The breeze
(life-giver, siren song)
knows things, but we do not
listen. We cogitate and
conjugate the most cognate
things, bring ourselves full
circle
(dizzy spells be damned)
and wonder why it
doesn’t turn out like
we planned.

Play your lyre,
your lies. Smoke your peace
pipe. Pat yourself on the
(stab-sieved)
back. Clack some black

into the void. Wonder
who’s listening. Wonder why.
Wonder how they know. Wonder
why you don’t. Wonder
if we players and pastoralists
are just Enochs, waiting. Wonder
why we’re debating anything
at all, and nothing. Wonder
if there ever really will be
anything new
under
this
one
sun.

 

 

..
Shawna made me a wordlist. And apparently I had a rant in the hopper that needed releasing. 😉 
 

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3 Responses to Plausible Renderings of a Fugitive and a Vagabond

  1. cayn says:

    Well I felt every word of this. It’s a dagger, for sure. A masterfully crafted one. One dear seems to be your re-sounding message.

  2. ihatepoetry says:

    The breeze knows things but we do not listen. That’s perfect.

  3. Rant on. Not enough people do.

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