Your essence, earnestly put forth unto impermanence to weather storms of whetherwhims.
No ellipses; ellipses…
Reincarnate, they live as long as us.
Ink-blue; windswept; late-night.
Lazy were his steps; listless was his mind.
Neurotaclismic chasmmind find pain in memorandemonia
In confinement – self ‘n solitary –
there sits a child.
In age-long decades past rises the gilt Zimbabwe sun, the gutt’ral summons resonating – roaring – deep.
Its summer scene of hours passed.
I, in this inkyphem’ral
The wind-waves ferry only onward th’scents of wawtry wood and th’smells of rainswept stone.
? ( … )
‘Ray’byun camels c’lect their stores in sanded, varnished vista.