The sun thing goes hunting for sport

And at its core it feels alive while stalking

the bright line walking made moot by thoughts of being

Bored

when locked up in clear cold -cocked mockery

(ahem: mayhem ensues along the scenic route….)

Cockled and shackled in the wrath

Blotted and bottled in the black ash of middle night

Happy and able and babbling about nutrients

Too many hunter’s sons and not enough sun hunters

so I guess instead of bless

…. its time to eat chopped wood and chop wood and eat hot food and feel not good

before befriending satisfaction fore

the blood bubble goblet spills blood drops on our fable-tops

And I wont let the coal get ashen black like a memory lick

Salt pours out

lets get severed from the eye lid’s business…

I don’t take any of this to mean that the rye means to pry

But I don’t need to surmise from your eyes

that the bride means to rise before the slice weds the bottom loaf

Poof

holes in cobblers workings should carry the moonlight in to the trap

Muddled alacrity for other reasons than no.......

I trap the quick lightning and it bugs me like an itch in hell for a second of eternal nuisance and

I gather that rather than ask for aid in the old séance I sense its better to let it bitter and wither on the tongue before I open my mouth in the presence of souls fooled by our games who breathe urgently that their names,

silently lost on the journey,

should get crossed from the list of guesses

before they go and for get what they were

and they begin to blurt them…

and we misunderstand them so bad and I breathe one of them in out of an accidental urge

Now, I know there’s no need to eat fate

so far so good,

But what of when the false buffet is buttered by the art of dark summoned sour

hospitality propped up by the staples of pardoners out on the prowl?

The shroud of the hardening hour is like bleary eyes barely seeing arteries through squints

and things are thin

Not as they should be

Not as they should get

What are we saying here?

That now we are called cannibals when we breathe ghosts or that we could go for some animals right about now?