for the Gnots [with audio!]


To bargain with nostalgia some more. 
The imposed templates stuck, frames 
filling the available space in revery, salon-style. 
Moments disparate conjoined, with loss. 
Loss as a steady leak. Whatever was thought, felt, 
framed out of grasp, some leaves, traces 
played about in the corner with wind.
Speaking out of blind spot, it's not a vaccuum
but pulls so, laying anguish across
broken hopes, roughly, road rash resulting.
Throat muses. Chin wags to swallow fist
birds in a panic, wing slaps, yet pedestrian
there is running from in so many shoes, a
rainbow, but no escape.

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