Need not dwell on all that has vanished to the wayside…
all the pokes and prods…
all the worries on the doorstep.
…
Words and willfulness that weigh on my features.
Pen and paper missteps etched in hollow bark meant to…undo.
A drumming beat…that is not quite thunder-like.
…
Rhythm’s noise now…an imperfect blue funk mixed with classic hues and purposeful refrain.
A tune not a one can claim.
Divergence’s influence…small tunnels from matter to the mane.
