Copious Amounts of Word Vomit

on occasion

of poetic smee

but i refuse

to speak of them

poetically

this

is an overhaul

you see

a deliberate

downturn

in such

novelty

at least

that

is what

i tell myself

when i pull

empty buckets

from the well

i

am a tired man

a thirsty boy

i can rhyme a word

or two

but not

Which means that if I

Tried to fly there'd be a crunch

Which means that if I

Tried to fly there’d be a splat

Before I brush the sky

Which means that if I

Tried to fly I’d fall

Back into myself

And lose all hope

Before I could taste the sky

the world, an architectural pattern

in optical illusion, moments mirrorized

when reality varies

changing, transforming

I can't leave myself alone

in the wastelands

of January

the luna wolf howls

her invocation of the muse

marking her sky-territory

with her song

“here i am”

she announces her fullness

to a crimson-clouded world

.