Bury into your mental faster than a
ravenous beetle, need a stage like a crack addict has to be needled.
I’m passing the steeple– can’t trust any of
these people.. Donation station, no ovation from the writer–
Consciousness, metaphysical insider..
Derider.. Welcome the pendulum, I’m
penning poetry far into the pit.. Stand then. Sit.
Revisit with another sip.. Morning coffee,
My own pace lost me. Thinking of what
It possibly taught me.. Hike
to Half Dome from Lombard Street.
My ones are neatly arranged by the
notebook.. The one I call the traveler..
Erratic babbler.. Me, admittedly– opposed to no-
tions of linearity.. She’s my modularity..
gothic rose-mouth phantasm.. Fill chasm,
My thinking stream, always above patent.
Stare at hills, rid surface of tills, tolls–
I’m supposed to be sold, at some point– but I won’t let you anoint.