making the rounds

3, no 4, intense conversations deep , on this tuesday eve i wrote an ill advised, quickly convinced poem.

After me, the flood…

our minds are clearest ,
when the tree lines are gone.

illogical everyday,
force de majeure

could be late afternoon
maybe early morn’

damp, warm.
scattered, and swarmed

where’s that piece
of humid’s guns

a roofs still floating
in our swimming pools

the laughs of
durable fools

the wails of
missing mules

damp, warm.
scattered, and swarmed