am I the only one
who hears in the sketchy, silent Rider’s talk
the valley bells
of the high noon sun
crushing the engraved village scene shades
where truth strikes
to liberate courage
of a nowhere sky–
cut and cropped,
turning dark with the ripple of the lightening blast
while melting the iron cabin rods
in a furious, fast storm
followed by the rain curtain
that curves
over the muggy-buggy road-
where yowling of the hindered dead drop spike
whistles under the green, wet, mossy paths of forest.

willowimages (2)Like a loner in the snowbound cabin free thought sniffs;
One more time, the armored knight fires words,
–Stalled by the thunder dog still barks fading echoes—
wiping willow hisses the poem ink
between the shivered, goose bumps spine lines
“But I want a vigorous reaction,
I do not want any more to push brakes
I do not care about any discretion”–
far melody crashes over the curve tuning bend, news mouths rumble,
“pour that timed drop on the balloon of ever-expanding infinity
stuck on the patchy cloud in a transit foxy limbo,
clear my sky
and I will not ask anymore that ultimate Insider’s “Why?”

And what is the “knight” about?


Pin It on Pinterest

Share This