Shift Verse Made

All views.. Mine
Maybe. Foils
Off the wine bottle,
Busy. Pull another cork.
But I can, wipe away evidence,
Purple winks on counter,
By pen cup. Order

You forgot your mind
on the mountain.
So now what–
Upstate, retreat.

No leaves yet.
And no rain.
That has to mean

Pond wishes, logged in a
mason jar, in a cave,
with jester bats.
The entryway, a procrastinator’s
promise. Lovely
Lie down. Take a nap. Worrying
only takes the color away. Blow
smoke over the canyon’s
last chapter. What will
they do?

Exit sign, key pad disease.
Reservation for two, for
Paid purgatory.
Doctor called, one
Pour, pour…

Dry engine roast, unlike
the front they predicted,
Bottling line stall,
Are they thoughts or
Wishes? Either side
will suite. Their favorite stamp:
A well of Orwell, do tell.