Pleased to smash these frames of thoughts,
we must expose the image, framed—
the picture in question, to allow the collection of sentiments to run
and fall from head,
one seed by one—like balls of lint
from cotton sleeves,
to fester and fold
and take control the situation.
Disconnect the conglomeration of rampant
freedoms crashed dead into walls.
Let them go: unhand them.
Seed by seed and grain by grain,
pleased to set these inklings free.
Pleased to let them cover me
in blankets reminiscent of
dandelion sheet; blankets like
the twitching
feathers of sleep
which overthrow my constructed
Dismay,
my culminated abomination.
Toward everything ‘good’
and ‘right’ and ‘Holy.
And reconstructs the banks of my mind,
patching them up and rearranging
the sides, the lines that hold these thoughts in sequence.
I am, in sleep,
incongruous to me.
I become subverted
by my theories reconstructed into
New equations, which,
in sum,
Are the antithesis of my waking equivalence.
The inside-out
of my usual persistence. -clw
8-19-03
copyright: C. Ward 2017
- crickle-bot publishing
cricklecrackle.wordpress.com
