FRAYED

Poolside at Nite

Out for the last smoke
at the unknown hour of the night
does the mind's eye fall
for all fictitious things stirring
through the fabricated landscape
like draped kindergarten tapestry
marked for all simple things
but those things
that should not
ever
make sense.
They swoop in
on dreamt up flight paths
just at the peculiar moment
when the crawling glimmer
on anything reflective
or serving introspective contempt
turns out
to be a spider
and turns out
to not be a spider
but a crawling glimmer (Re:assured
of my certainty when
my brother tells me so
but) he is not here,
dead.
Just like the tapestry
with simple meaningless symbols
that fray
like everything else
and remind me to go to sleep.
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Comments
One Response to “FRAYED”
  1. I would encourage you to go for the Poet Society I announced at OM’s. =)
    Not many I have extended a hand to for this project.

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