Tethered pistons yelling grief and gilded tattered fungus chips
to the
elementary linkage, smartly aligned and chopped through the useless night.
These are the loftier goals of our people, healthy and vigorous ones,
and yet,
the tumbling hasn’t left our eyelids, if we’re lucky we’ll catch a cold.
Outwards and progressing, starboard forward and sandpipers running
to the
softer climes, where skinny legs won’t be lapped with briny foam.
Timid clicks, the endless game without objective never loses its thrill
for the
loveliest, simplest, most fragile spirits, visiting us just for the sunset.
Tag: consciousness
Stream 2
Talk about hard knocks. This marble countertop really banged up my knuckles.
Who told me that marble and marbles are the same material? Was it Edgar?
Edgar is nothing but trouble. I don’t know what possessed you to take him to that ball game.
I mean, I understand he just lost his dog, but baseball is a strange substitute.
You could have taken a date to that game, you know. You never think of those things, do you?
It’s not all just going to magically ‘work out’ for you. You have to make those efforts.
Stream 1
A potential for anything is really what I’d like to see around here.
Anything less just seems halfhearted.
Take a leap and risk a plunge, there’s nothing wrong with it.
Well, utter failure and death are dubious rewards.
A bank teller, a swamp monster and a demon from the sixth level of hell walk into a bar.
The manhole cover by the playground has been slightly ajar for six or seven weeks now.
Kevin went over that way yesterday after school, and I haven’t seen him since.
WHARVED 