William Blackburn

Etchings, like rubbings find patterns in the dubbing voiceover

As a narrated cartoon

Something overarching overbearing in mind bears might mind if we

Take over the Park

Bench that thought and segue to a new frontier, the last bastions

Of the human mind

 

This rock, this spinning globe, pining away for love of God

Where do we go from here

Waiting through immortal lifetimes in the long dark expanse

Expanding without bounds

Falling as deciduous leaves amongst the moldering wood lawn

Strolling casually home

 

Calibrated for righteousness, emboldened as if newly anointed

Knighted as if by rote

Pleasant conversation in tones leaden with ice and fire

Rhetoric for peasants

Stirring pots two handed, stewed rabbits with carrots and celery

Poor juxtaposition that

 

Alighting on the finer points needle points and crochet hooks

Snagging winter sweaters

Thank goodness for goodness sake for good we hope in the long run

With shoelaces untied

Skipping stones down these corridors of tangential thoughts

Don't run with scissors

 

Born Free, gluten free, free with purchase, no such thing as a free lunch

Where our people meet

Discussing digesting disrespecting each other, delusional in disrepair

As social norms fail

Which begs the question as to normalcy in this golden cage, gilded age

Are we just cackling birds