All poetry, no prose.. I chose notably, so closed.

Unload, they froze.

Time running out, but how?  Only a second ago, I left

impressions aglow.  Thorough like Thoreau;

Arrow, bow.  Precisely skate over Arctic ice– isolated,

part with price.. critics feared like rabid bat bites–

however not me; react immediately, clocks cracked–

how these devils are, but I top that..

attitude & demeanor, the bad news infused to deed’s

beaker.. me, measured untethered.  Arguments

implied with convenient skies.. my writing shape, quite

cubist.. only way to be truest, but they’re still clueless.

Depart from heart, emotion.. more than impart commotion–

experimental potion, all pages, syllabic hit– mad as

Lazarus.  Tracked, but I’m packed, ready to leave, need

times-three reprieve– was burned in internal journal hurdles.

(8/4/13)