Riddled Branches

Branches, replied the stones, shall brandish and grow in twain. Branches, hurled the stones, shall wither and crack and die, they shall be lit. Branches will keep vigil for the sun--daily in its rounds.

Killing Stones

Stones, proposed the branches, shall litter the lowest lands, shall shoulder the oceans, shall hide in caves. Stones, continued the branches, shall always be a throw away from themselves, never finding.

Insurmountable Incredulity

Without pausing for new alliteration, a quick jaunt to the sun.

There are days when quiet escapes quiet and quiet returns quiet. Thought is in a loop and all ends when all begins. Every step is a new adventure. Every so often, every other so uncommon, a trap is laid and in all falls.

Coffee is supposed to help. In time the time wasted will be followed by... write it in.

Midnight (as the oil burns)

The pinky swore not to be a boor,
But alas, he wore too many clothes to war.

Quality of Life

When a hot iron is picked up, the first reaction, assuming that the iron in question is not a flat one for de-wrinkling clothes but in fact a hot piece of iron, is to yell loudly and drop the damn piece of hot metal!

When irony strikes there is no quick reaction. There is only the fresh brand and a stench of gotcha.

Into the night the detective followed the very clues that would lead him to the fact that he was following clues at night rather than getting a proper sleep. Into the night the archaeologist dug for clues that archaeologists only dig during the day. Into the night my focus drew on the words, the fate-sealing words: focus is unachievable.

Distracted

When upon a cloud, a sheep, wolf?
When in a meadow, flowers, Tour de France?
To the cafe, knife drawer, telekinesis!
Forward, backward, tenacious appreciation of all things improbable.
Kilowatt, what do I kill, Nefarious dreams. The Egyptian pyramids are too tall.
Follow the distracted brick road. Leaves in the rain.
Stressing about one's coat yields no hooks into which one can sink.
The brain, the valleys, the wildflowers, the extra-dimensional staircases in that Futurama episode.

What fresh hell is this? This is my hell.

Puppy Mills

General Mills.

'twas

incidentally we diverged in our opinion.
in the state folly, and it was quite a one, we

panicked.

trifles, and they were trifles, nicked and kicked,
at our blades, as our blades nicked and bit at our
bladed words.

Winter Deludes.

We Collude.

We constrain ourselves to the visible, the understandable, the edible. Feebly lifting a finger to seek what's already present, squarely setting against that which is less so.

Dithering on the head of a pin, our attention flittering like a spun top on the wane.

Why Qualify?

Why contribute to the confusion?

The whimsy of every word wallows handsomely in the languid wind. Why indeed must it be explained to the humdrum mass?

The question shimmers--the rainbow slick on the surface of a soap bubble, until, seemingly without cause it disappears, unanswered, unchased and chaste, hastily followed by another. The footfalls ring out the cavern.

Bicycle Trip

Come to the moon and revel in the view.

Marshmallow

Twirling jubilantly, a question suddenly lands. Coax the second from the hand? Coax the second from the minute hand? Stave off seconds? Live in the hour?

Laws of Physics as Pertaining to Travel

q.Will you go to the ends of the earth for me?

a.That is a truly barbaric notion.

q.Love?

a.The earth having ends.

q.Do you love me?

a.No.

q.How do you know?

a.I would rather [do] too many things than stay with you in the place of too few.

q.But can you love me from afar?

a.No.

q.How do you know?

a.I have never been to the Amazon from Brooklyn.

q.Why must you to the Amazon?

a.I mustn't in Brooklyn.

q.Oh.

One hundred handhakes, One hundred hugs.

In the forest that grows tenaciously 'tween Brighton and Manhattan lives a feller named Achilles. He's an anteater. One day, Achilles accidentally sucked up some seeds 'stead o' some ants. In irritation, Achilles spat them out.

The seeds were of two plants not found anywhere in the forests of the land, but they landed together, they grew, they sprouted.

Achilles was amazed at the fortune of these strangers. He was amazed that his irritation bloomed into this beautiful blossoming pair. Well, he would have been amazed, had he found out--but the land was wide and this was but a single pair of seeds.

Not to be continued.