Transcendental Perambulation
- Collected steps like leaves pulled softly
- Spade-shaped, breath and shirt-sleeve shined
- Pressed between hardcover pages
- Lashed with lies like “Love is blind”,
- Plans to shuffle, straggle, drift,
- And maps to those left long behind,
- Socks soaked through from blisters broken
- Sweat in songs to draw the flies.
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- Woke along a highway, coughing
- Lips caked thick with dust and grins
- Streetlights stretched black ribbons west
- To slink from where the day begins
- And westward, then, two heels clicking,
- Crickets changing paths on shins,
- And eastern treasons, earlobes licking,
- Stretched across to catch the winds.
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- Kept pace along with traffic, waving
- Swirled the dirt to match the breeze
- City sidewalks, street signs blushing
- Souls and soles in union beat
- Rhythms rising, ‘cross the paths
- Long beaten to the dust beneath
- To wake away, some hours gone
- Where no one knows which name to speak.