Friday, March 2, 2018

Previously Published on bytheoverpass (Overpass Books) . . .



Cobble [Stoned] Courts

Nothing is solid today.  Not me.  Not
my mind.  Not the air swinging
from my lungs like a bloated baboon.
It is pounding my chest.  An overgrown
tickertape-bongo-ballast.  I walk its plank
blindly.  Counting the rails of my make-
shift cage as I pass through
my own thought.  Lagging, a pace,
my heart is too strong for the intellect
clawing at its bass.  It does not like
the categorizations of pros and cons.  Neat
and tidy is not natural.  Here in this cavern
of callouses, negotiations fall deaf[eningly
silent].  Shame on the sun for trying.
My patience is tweaked by its warmth,
but only slightly.  Slighted is a more familiar
glove.  And knocks me back into the black
before I can settle on any shape
of perforated [in]decision.




(https://overpassbooks.org/poetry-2/)



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