Untall tales & drunken poetry. A cosmic consciousness pinpointed into a finite being arrested by the beauty and tragicomedy of existence.
Have you seen the beans come to fruit?
Joined at the hip; all congruent.
Fluent in chopped eggs and weddings.
Hopped on blocks and squigglies,
And so the dawn holds out
‘neath this hollowed sunset
Trickled down over salty streets
In marbled joy and rosy coercion
Dare you smell the air’s frustrations