touching and thinking

something I would have

thought on my own

baby says to me

and i am confused

about whether my mind

talks like a girl

chase on after

hold on tight

know no master

need not quite

going into a

sing-songy seven

which may interlude

waiting for the pause

to pass pick up

per usual places

standing out from

the stars said

the universal bound

press on dear space

keep carefully creeping

so that after some time

having crept inches ‘come miles

been back in blasted

corduroy off-season class

come conflict with hot

days threatened sweat

soft and plush palace

put aside per usual

malice for miles

at no comfort’s refusal

so sense

turned over

and time

turned back

so truth

got twisted

like a

bottle cap

given size

and so few

focus deep

down low

might make

the far

my muse