Springingly

Saying yellow words,

A prancing fool,

Mixed in a bargain–

Of congealing fantasies.

Only bent in twisted time,

Towards a center in knowing.

 

Sub-sea and breathing,

Warm consumed,

A pale glaze of sweet,

Makes pattering sounds–

Moving with pigeon hops,

Along this life.

Sniffing the new air.

Bade chance make a constant–

Albeit…

Random dance again.