Photo by Szabo Viktor on Unsplash

A Dovetail from the Meniscus

My eyes would catch the sky — light-hearted

until the trance — horizon buckled down deep into my pockets,

Enlighten, squared and steep in time, but with each return to the dawn

With the courier Sun,

And the sky sits there synonymous with each passing

Souvenirs what was possibly undreamt, without coasters,

just floating

Like a hippo camp,

An ardor push narrower and narrower under the hippo camp

A twinkle from rift sand pursed to a classic, interlocks in lifts, an orbit

Some graze, but not boisterous, just marinated, strenuous of transformation

And tones dovetail from the pockets, while the peripheral flanks under the looking glass

Up

Comes the lift, mosaic

encampment, the most photogenic of all dovetailing, Capture, a topside-up dilation

— a trance

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Memories keep you reminiscing — Priming the moving target

A pocket of time can be a swath,

A rouse

Like an oath, it sets apart the natural world

A cold breath, but its timing collects as you come together

fungible as well, corners of the world

In the distance can be heard, “Let’s go.”

The Shrink is on the way.

Everything is going to be alright,

Onsets a big-picture, broad and boasting

But not yet spreading,

Moments are said,

Will these memories come again?

Look into the big-picture

There’s the tap

That infinitesimal sense from orchestration.

We sleep knowing the shrink is on the way,

But wake merely knowing the day.

And yet if I flick the switch,

The beautiful Medusa would say otherwise.

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The Silver Tongue, Rogue

The Silver Tongue, Rogue

1.98K Followers

Long Poems with the spoken heart. Aspiring for disproportionate independence and admiration curated to mainstream idols. #Unhurried #Forgiving