Impressions

Magpies flit verbose, chatter about
red of her blouse, flounce
of her hair, intoxicant
air she exhales – stream radiant.
White light screams panic.
Grey limbo whispers unease.
Black shouts of demonic disease.
Color codes for incrimination;
frames built through sojourns in jails
 *
“Fade into the pale,” waves on horizon.
Noise spins into tone, “One with the whole.”
Throw jacks in the yard every night
for the sake of pure soul.
 *
so close-mouthed, the old
sages deified for
withering wit
 *
Calamity manifest aeons beyond
consolation of tv skit
ain’t admissible reason,
each day assigned its season.
 *
“To suffer is to share
comfort in some matterless common sphere.”
 *
permeates Earthly ears.
Sapient chatter
doesn’t impress
Solar flares.
.
.
.
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