a roundtrip: era, lingo

we would not be rewarded for following however unbroken the line, we raked in our traces, mustering attributes of migration

calculating our division or a handful of flight, a time bomb waiting in anticipation of era

original timelines seldom remain as a roundtrip, irreversibly intrinsic, fixed to the core of going next

and the pages turned themselves, being off the scent of intelligence there was a crankiness to memorising conclusion, this visit can plainly illuminate hidden fires, a nudge and a wink lie in wait, a long distance introduction reforms the shape of the ride, chalking up aerial lingo or just putting the words together

spanning the unwritten pipeline

we overstepped each other, in the osmosis that is cooperative wandering, this phrase “a passage to” like a speed bump in my thinking, this was the way we never quite got there, a delivery straddling incredible distances,

we knew our way to most topics, taking into account slants of ponder and pungent tones

there was an urgency to our steps that gave gravity a gestation period, allowing hops and skips to hitchhike on air, this way we were able to ward off redundant burden, balancing one world against another

more than just together, we were onlookers using a magnifying glass as prehistoric tool,

on the rung of this world, far and away the most fictitious u-turn leads to a trophy for disobedience

always a private transfer in suspense, let’s assume, for surprise’s sake, that writing is only one way to queue up, let’s assume we can hang around and face the prospect of disrespect as if it were an honour

tut-tut, I hear you say (did you hear that too?), from the wrong side of insight

but we have let ourselves out of the back door, onto the freeway of unwritten corners, it’s simple, but there again we didn’t expect to be written here, we had other ideas

= = =

pipe down, let chance say no (to the still open) to the green light

both borderline cases of hidden depths

we will ad-lib our swan-song when the time comes, for now our entourage cuts both ways

= = =

we would like to make an enquiry, a close enquiry, we have a leading question, somewhere, there is a naivete to needing to find things, it’s testament to ‘on the’ ‘off chance’ that the relevant fantasy fits all

being in the know, as they say, that’s all very well if meticulous gumption is what you are after, we…, we are clear headed, no padded cells in these minds, just a foretaste of bunkum x blether that passes for limpidity, a caricature of informed circles, a blinding flash to a postage stamp, never forgetting how jiggery-pokery is an assumed watchword for carbon copy slogans

= = =

it must be 3amish, 3.10 to be precise, does that get you frothing at the mouth for 3.15? when this missive will be a little longer, a veritable couplet in disguise, inclined, just a smidgeon, to stopping at nothing, to overthrowing all traditional aids, to standing apart, ill-equipped and nursing insulation, or more likely mothballed in endeavour

gritty captions written between a and b

hugging the clean sheet, agreeing to agree to this fruitful laying down of four corners, acres rupture the seal of refined regrets

the breadth of exaggeration overdoes our deficiencies, it’s not enough to want to divulge, when under our noses snoops our likeness, fresh from ethics, we are agog with vigilance, checking up on reverie as a precaution to loose ends

it’s a question of likening a to b

keep in mind the hit and miss resolution that digs in,

we went further than patting our backs, further than rubbing our hands, it was a prank we played on existence

in the face of nitty-gritty, nothing was rife

we diagnosed ourselves with many complaints, we had:

frame of mind
state of health
walk of life
kilter and fettle

but we decided to press on, those things having nothing to do with our captions, we eked out a direction, re-drawing boundaries between the bait

an appetizer to kissing goodbye to infallibility

and the groundswell of edification raises all entreaties to avoidance, the abstainer’s perceived gridlock is rather the millpond that orients what is vanishing,

evaporating the point we have difficulty finding and yet we know the eclipsed are still there, pinned down as an inappearance or a backward step that nevertheless arrives to break the silence with the sound of knees knocking at the brownie points convention

insignificance holds value dear,

it’s the be-all not the end-all that counts

and then there are the squelchy spoils of ineffability,

ways in for the also-rans

let’s champion falling between two stools

juggernauts at dawn

probability discusses the case, pinning hopes on the background in accordance with genuine conditions, shell-shocked and heedless of foresight she ushers in piffle emanating from the wrong end of the stick – the backroom word is: hold your tongue, for the grapevine enlightens the grindstone at all turns

in defence of halcyon days she winds up finishing off the golden touches, leaving only their indents to smell the roses into pacification – peace talks in the flower beds, the rookie thorn dead set on a duel

midpoint handicap, the difference between being thrown off balance and compensating, it’s a short fall of untrimmed habit, patching up each rung of the stairway, going halves on equal opportunities, agreeing on another time for nowadays, it’s a preview of ‘on the spot’ that dates back to a posthumous eve

unruly light, when will it be dawning again? or is this the terminal knot no-one counts on as we proceed slavishly recurring, the sun’s groupies, in the making of, or hand in hand with, the majority, all pending the next instant to robotically be tricked by drill, permeated becomes addicted becomes tamed and our own winning ways docilely impress the rut

tramlines of behaviour, she too can head, is heading for disorder

lying on her back and watching the juggernaut sweep everyone up into play, the future is close at hand, make a distinction