Keep my thoughts in barrels, I’m caught like a
ferrel cat. Put the arrows back in the trunk.
The corruptor’s math, now debunked. Almost
sunk in a dead sea. But not me, with
irregular poetry, my patience goes in
threes. Own a tree that births only
thoughts, sentences that mend blemishes.
No lights, just an author with his Literary
device plight. My sight spiked. Turn, a
tight right. No wine in my channels,
my panel is safe. Not interested in debate
Professor with unsent letters, still. Spare me
your corporate puritan pill. I’ll stay outspoken,
Pandora’s beautiful box, now open. A cloud,
chosen for my ascension, at eleven PM. Message,
click resend. Smiling, coffee in hand. Readers
caught me with strands.
(Friday, 1-14-11)
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