Along the Outlaw Trail

by on September 16, 2021 :: 0 comments

Strewn loonily enough
above, below, beside me,
words, messages undone
or up too tight,
lie in thrall.

Shadowland imposters
preach monotonously,
windswept egos are poised
above insecurities,
advocating their conjunction
of letters, syllables,
drained of innocent proposal,
purpose, balanced on wishes,
presumptions, parabolic
emotional curves
and abject, untutored devotion.

Great stories intertwine
with great jokes,
the best of them,
sudden, percussive,
tingling through bone marrow,
chopping at the freeze
inside, intolerable,

at the final breaking point,
releasing us
to glad horizons.

– RC James

editors note:

Glad must horizons be when words are loonily strewn. Yes! – mh clay

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