evasive_pieces

in this huddled mass
I roust and spin
a faucet with no cereal
for the bowl and spoon
singing crumpets growing into colors that are too good
by the church
for me, for me.
standards of stranded rafts
bit and shattered on the
mesozoic hurdles; drop-ping wet,
semi-solid and sweet and just being,
being there which is.