I can’t sir. I am not prone tonight to eat heaving and Sounding out sloppy syllabic English. Sisyphus gave blood I heard yesterday Helping out our cause at the five and dime. When outnumbered run faster, he remarked Wiping his brow and tossing aside a bead from his neck. Colors streaking and bleeding while Ten
Regret knitted into loose conversation wraps me,
Dragged by a fisherman’s net, casually tossed over the lee.
Splayed, filleted, pocketed and oversteeped:
‘The Robber of Roses Steals Only from Sleep.’
Lightning struck the tree in the neighbors yard, Last year in the midsummer’s knife we dreamed of storms Laughing now, loving how Ions sweeten the air. As slowly you bend to greet the wind, a genuflection of retort, Dull August sunshine laughing back – the cumulonimbus roll by. The wind picks up sticks, twigs,