Last stop on a fall

through limbs hanging

heavy with moss

whisper a prologue

a prenuptial peccadillo made entirely

of purpose driven presidential posies

a flaming tree with no eyes

lasting moments before the retina recycles and runs

dripping down a nose so long it should be lying

but is shouting tea leaf auguries at onions

a windfall without green

Cellulose on celluloid running frames of

heath flavored plant life

vegans running where hamsters would do

powering a nation of transportation

an army marches on its stomach

a nation marches on medulla oblangatas

dangling like patriotic pears

When tired poetry works sidewards

and living words come out of crannies like

fish from their holes

Saying, pick me!

Never a line would write itself

and save the poet the pain

of thesaurus wrestling and

succumbing to the synonym button

shut up paper-clip!

I know how to write a letter

Non sequiturs show the world the penguin inside

never consider yourself beyond the reach of writers block

a tumult of words spat from your mouth

for they were neither hot nor cold

Fiddle a string atomic nature

boiling down the building blocks of bricks

and build and electronic angel

to dance on the head of a pin

the next question the world waits for

has to be how many

If you tell yourself

you need to write no matter what

you will be surprised what happens

Sadly though the world withholds its truths from inquisitive minds

and prefers not to be split over the back of an Oppenheimer or a Van Braun

A poem wanted to fill this space

all twenty-seven of these words

could have been poetry

and could have been beautiful

but the poet was busy