Trapped belongings, an immovable feast for the face
But for a thousand primeval pieces, a “who-dun-nit?” “who’s-who?” derivative slew of utter comfort and chaotic misbehaving’s
The sting in the trilateral tail pokes triangular kinds of fun
At foot-pace, and the faith-filled race appears
Out of
Nowhere – Where is this pedantically inclined source of light coming from? Procedural for sure and completely taken itself aback again – an avatar’s place wherein she gathers to gain the mischievous makings
Of a well-wisher, welter-weight pen
Waiting for the next great move, anticipating the next great groove…
But for her troubles, she must, must, must go into the darkness of the fondly lit scripture
Something boomerang-esque and decidedly covert about all of these wondering words, don’t we think it?
With contemplative creation for charming minds
And pressed imploringly amidst
These heavenly creature-features indeed
Start at the beginning again and with rough-air out there – maybe perhaps, gently lent opportunistically, operatically, against
Who-knows? But for the inspired dive of her looking-glass nose
And the bent eagerness of a trained ear, which stares at the spectacular shape of the pain – eye-catching?
Ear-snatching, rather
Whichever suits the size of your cordial persuasion, dearest Sophie suggested
And, just like ‘The Big Friendly Giant’, with the sizeable sides of his dream sharing trumpet at gargantuan hands, she will proceed to bewitch them-there invisibly invincible, blood-eating imbeciles
And, just like a newborn mother of a newborn child, with her parachute droppings placed carefully against the traversing flame, these are the good bones in the world, right!?
She does love seeing the whole of the world through them though, and through it anew… … as fresh as a far-reaching breeze of refreshing daisy-chains
Seeing herself from the outside-in
And as intrinsically specified as she’s being threaded
Anticlimactically together at the fabricated seams
Placed carefully against the traversing flame, yet again, and joint back together
By the might of a coupling firefly
And Yes – a dancing body does burn toward the cursed surface