Rain coat and golashes on.
Clock ticks but the hands don’t move.
Waiting for the bomb to drop, I
stoke the fire, recall a tune:

The chorus wrapped its coils around
my head, a snake with tail untold,
swallowing my memories
and knowledge that I’d had before.

Small movements
invisible eye.
Winds sparks embers.

Just below the scatt’rin’ clouds
vultures circle, buzzing bills.
Meanwhile, I’m down on the ground
spinning yet remaining still.

‘Twas at that time the rhyme arrived.
Swooping down and opened wide,
it took me in its beak and then
it all went dark, now here I am, I’m….

Unpenned verses,
invisible eye.
Winds sparks embers.

When am I?

The coast’ll clear.
Just a matter o’ when
the water meets the land.

(3/24 & 3/27/2020 – Gregory Street, Madison, Wisconsin)

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