Musing – WHARVED

Allures–

Ever-prepared to twist a flask
through momentary fence slat openings–

tirelessly striving
to bounce among the crows
while somehow maintaining resistance
to cherry pie allures–

this bagel hoarder fails to stay a caricature;
his age includes his visions,
inquiries and musings.

His daily hike through neighbors’ sheep farms
dusts his mind, aerates his neurons
and rolls crisp–

long as the hills tumble green
with moss-padding deer,
caws carrying gaiety
over the hours, sometimes damp.

———-
First draft posted to WHARVED on Jan 11, 2012, Entitled “#82”

Very Few Individuals

Untendered through dire circumstance, Felicia done bit the enlarged peregrine bug burrowing under Frenchie’s Bakery on Hydrangea Court, six exits from the McDonald’s on Nash.

Myself, I tend to bite the largess of the enraged siren-watchers (from the circuitous balcony-tenders on their vacation from daily toiling in the everglade-type peat bogs in lower Georgia (very obscure, you wouldn’t know about them)).

As it stands, very few individuals truly contemplate the serene orange-gargling once espoused by citrus connoisseurs a world over, and I have quite the time attempting to describe the passionate musings of madmen with more brains than common sense.

Collection

The day of I know not what but I always could figure it anyway if you asked me to, but not if you ask me in a way commensurate with the smiles you’re bound to receive when I let my mother’s antique movie penguin replica collection go into the record books as a swindler’s dream, very never-so-minded and genuinely enraptured by the Germanic trepidation we all seem to face on a daily basis.

Stronger than the average jurisdiction machine, I marvel at the time I shot penguins through dragon school as a favor to my mother, on account of her love for penguin scholarship “what with the range of predicaments exclusive to this underwhelming era that brings us nothing but worry.” Or she would say something in that vicinity, at least.

So today, just like any other day, we spill the courage of the middle class across our collective janitorial musings, content to soak up any modicum of civility that would be offered to us upon completion of a correspondence course (for a nominal charge, of course).

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