wild nothing

he was on his way
further than vision,
no wonder his wild wish
wanted to view his toes
from some of those,
patterns in the pentatonics,
and his nails were cut to the tone

as a body may do,
it unlatched some screws
no longer could he differentiate
apart from his moonbeams
the directions to be given
to all those of whom were missing.

I found his candor to be quite artisanal
so I stopped on my way,
to view my feet from the bottom, there,
and their he stood, lungs in the air.
Inhalation of his tone,
so mine exhumed an old self,
one without toes
but all the predilections to be so.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s