..
the sky’s a hot mess
of wasabi origami cloud
cover and white
(hot)
noise.
tuck in, begin
the free of falling,
the flight of calling
yourself
strange. we’re scaled,
pageless.
ageless and
deranged.
we’ve got a feel
for the rhythm; for
-gotten how to rhyme.
but they don’t teach us
how to keep on going
or how to color inside
the lines; just how
to
stop.
drop.
roll.
good times.
..
Prompted by Poetic Asides.
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You are so flippin’ clever! Every time I say I’ll never write a poem again, you pop up and make me think I might wanna. 😉
I ate sushi yesterday too. Yum!
So this is almost all of it, but I LOVE these:
“the sky’s a hot mess
of wasabi origami cloud”
“the free of falling,
the flight of calling
yourself
strange”
“pageless.
ageless and
deranged.”
“for
-gotten how to rhyme”
“they don’t teach us
how to keep on going
or how to color inside”
“or how to … roll good times” … Too funny. 🙂 That makes me think of somehow rolling the TV show into something smokeable.
This was a lot of fun.