Glass is etched with old water dream drops
flicked
intermitttently off
an ill-eloquent
sun…
a she ostrich
me-ostrich burial ground
of “stuff”
that just didn’t happen…
Ego and Id wandering through several little universes
of my old making…
irreverential flip flop
spots
flicking
leftover arrows
through inconsequential, non-referential
sequential-ly past tense over due
falter me
ox eye hoops…
(But parentheticals can grow petals so I hope for new blooms on glass….soon)
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