WORDS ON THE HORIZON

PARAMETER

This is the first piece for this new collection of poetry and it has intrigue, status quo and the unassailable, silent form of nature's reproach towards human excesses.

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Grace notes inconspicuous.
Unpaved mannerisms on those sleek stretches.

He ate the streets in the city,
now he gurgled guttered indignities on N.H.'s flattened abdominal post.
He ate the highway too,
countering practicality at every toll plaza.
New Money abducted miles in grimy mammoth trucks
and a cavalcade of S.U.V.s.

Enough done and the highway patrol opened fists.
The intersectional was prone to his badland banditry.
With her infinite eyelashes did the street goddess call him out
for his bastardised infantry.
A tyreless curve
and a guttural swerve.

On those camel like humps of the canyon,
flattened out and destructible beyond recognition,
his ravenous trail beckoned.
A skeleton with crosses that he ignored,
The mouth of the gorge his
BRAKING POINT.

The highway ate up his spectacle,
his cronied miles now
leading to his gorged grave.
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