a fall, not the worst result.. at least I’d

feel breeze at my free–

dismissing what’s in jar, treats or

tumult.  catapult.  wallet

emptying itself into optimism’s

prism.  questions recited to 

unpredictable percussion.

if I’m ever published by Them,

pace all lost.  re-writing wiring.

almost landed.  how much further,

only measured by guesses, so many.

tower lean, growth to cut.. reflect.

how wise am I, ignoring two eyes–

following antsy tide, push plans knee-high.