A circle of dim lit ashes thrown away at paces left over by a fox
away the repair from the last night
and in a say to hold tonight’s role.
As the wind caught to treble its speed, a nightmare crossing between eyes
and so it happens that a marked satyr slips
between the forethought and the ill effect
of the concocted drink.
The signature over the mountain speaks utter elaboartions
of the past that can’t be seen
and the hues of which are light,
like a sunburn left from the beach.
The perched bird triples in speed
The hovering juniper is shying away –
for it is past the question
when the hanging moose slits a whip over the retired lampoons.
From the time the timber reeked of liquor, many swoons have passed the dark
In reprise of the guise the jeopardy took
and many attires donned by the skunks who memorize
Very scrawny letters have let out a thorn
and many men have scorned the horns –
of the wetter dreams that belittle.
From the spaces through which the angry whispers made mention of the desired
settled scores have discussed the coated tongues.
So far the members have united in their licorice satires
to yipe with the get ups of the folk.
In single maneuver, a calm has set to find the food in place
and a mask pulled off the bizzarre
such as a towered ick tuned to a music
to forfeit its cue instead of its twice decided moods
© Prateek joshi and WordPress, 2018