The time a day, the road is all, a sidelong gaze
Of a strolling cow catches off guard a widowed drop
Curving in rumble-O-traffic, nervy and pining
And rushing to the fallen. Terrific horns and moody moos,
The sun scampers through orange trails, traffic honks
And broody hues invite the moon to a feast of space.
Like two-tummy chews, airs a thought then licks it back,
In the middle of the road sending split wind sprinting;
The night takes ground, cows unlostily drink from
Water cans, meandering into little corners, the predawn
Billows, sun-up saunters into abrupt shadows and
Turns face, beast gallops in genetic memories
Until it's naked to the bones, naked to the bones in
Casual laps of drifting clouds and strolling unlosty winds.
~Ajay
10/5/19
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seaboyman ~ poetry
Poetry~ is that not the perfect visual image of life and death / a fish flapping on the carpet and a fish not flapping on the carpet ~
