skewered by a blade of grass

it was then that he told me those conditions
enrolled in uncertainty
kissing the skip in revival
there was really no such thing as a stamping ground
but on converted soil
there existed a malevolent truancy
galloping toward some skill
or other refound starry night

and saying no is as good as any way to keep on -
on the job
road
wagon
hop
hoof
to keep on the halo
with suns constantly
rising “is it still dawning?”
and dawning on you it will be
when a feather looks you in the eye
it’s time to, it’s time to, what is the word I’m looking for?: time to elope, evaporate, envelop and go post yourself

from the dull confines of folded paper, comes a two pronged gift, it means little to the passersby, skewered by some new-fangled dream, clinging onto the customer, perhaps you remember how good I was in the good ol’ days, then again your memory left you behind on Main Street, where else, collapsed into the artery of town, a full scale reminder, if one were needed, of how green the grass is up close, and how many sodding blades make up a lawn, and how provincial it is to write ‘lawn’ and yet we’re happy to tread on something living when we actually have to go somewhere, tum te tum te tum… lots of green stuff squeaking
– “why me?”

but getting back to uncertainty…

underlying afterthoughts, the audacity

such difficulty in touching down

the audacity of mixed feelings

but, but, but

the following reasons are quashed in the face of null:

1. the following reasons in the end did not follow

underlying gestures congeal
tagged onto a set-up
inflicted merely to claim fuse for itself

footnote: step aside, muster disbanded cries

practise perforating the day
inclining it to stages of
heightened procrastination
procras procrass crass
reassembling
incredible afterthoughts asking instructions
of the reserves
the maybe masses
not forgetting that final gaze
on a turned
turned table
an example of postponement like no other

often I mean to smile

instead of being accosted and dubbed into my own language

a cancelled sneer at all
the little thoughts, trotting by on some jaunt

palaver

it was then he told me in uncertain terms

(did I use the word hanker? I wanted to, yes I wanted to)

my latest hovering

pauses lifted into irregular ways,
everything drifted to extremities
as though there was no need
and temptation advertised merely
to prevent what was unavoidable

real pain is but moments away, cringing realities promoted above all else

you set in motion all kinds of leads
and it was this that eventually allowed me to turn back, cutting the fawning mire down
I had come unstuck, endangering a start at stopping

intense as the solution washing inside me

untie either
tether up
since can never faint
I shadow
usual
comparison – felt time deserted I

is it that the world is exhausted?
and irony is no longer conscious of the remains of my latest hovering