The lying face down on the bed,
before hearing
wrinkled hands on warm skin.
Soft.
Cranebuilding up.
Drawn downwards magnetic-ally
in the shade of magenta’s shadow.
I dreamt of the same drama that you did.
°
Yesterday’s sunset never occured.
The solar absence. A sick day.
A buzz-kill a’side a-bore.
The ocean laps and shifts against restless legs.
And, I’ve got nothing upsleeve and no
allies hidden downwind.
Just a few holes for perceiving, in my head.
A sternum pouting in slight protrusion below my breasts.
Perplexed for posterity, at the trivial causality and meaningless correlations.
So I make-up for you
this campy of collective nouns:
A coalescence of coral reefs;
A pert of pearls.
A cajolery of Tricksters.
A spread of betters and gamblers.
A quimper of quivers mixing with whimpers.
A dithering of doting.
°
Last night,
I felt that pulsing in my a gauche foot which precedes a muscle cramp.
I felt tied and tireder.
Wrestling with the dichotomy of physical inaction apposite the desire to action.
Beastly.
Scriven, scrivener, and a’scribe: I hear.
Aye: says Æ, whilst I nod.
I write my capital I’s the same as my lower case l’s
In my handwritten longform.
I do.
Æ does.
Aye.
WrittenCasey 