I

dear heavenly I
a letter of impish infamy
iron clad to a face
yet impossible to meet in one's head
to embrace
too much spoken for the magnanimous name
like bouncing balls into a volcano
"I feel
I think
I want"
to sink into deep cessions
though this raised figure tilts ad twirls
to glint the sun
who holds it, friend?
something? someone?
which I allows to I another?
which sounds spell out the sound of a druther?




Forgive my recent poetry snap. been away. been Musicaling in different manners.
I don't like what I've recently writ. I suspect a down time perhaps, to recuperate or quit.
However, however bad I become, I intend to think this way. it breeds well-thought thinks.