Don't assume I'm listening

Gray-black palm tree shadows in mist.   Far away, flat against, I can list & label as well as anyone but the exercise is without merit & the kickback is way too shallow.   A system of belief, however fragile & ill-conceived, might float the iron feather but I get my news from the carved abalone shell (sky).

[I would expect living it ahead of time as anything is drawn down to attention suggests that words presuppose the identify theft manifest as “The Poems” since narrative’s just another way to nail the ritual of nonlinear permission which lyric inherent will score the measure of, provided our poet is an open window.   The nature being that of practice, a practice, the practicing poet, as such a discipline with nothing to prove but a kind of tentative existence shared, that mere threads in the weave would argue a pattern or shape.   A presence there derived as one would be susceptible.]

A two/four beat on the submarine strings of a glass stratocaster.   Sure the cartoon implication deflects the canned halogen but I drink from the bottle.   Complications indulged, unlaced eucalyptus seabreeze static entering sideways off the gray-green geometry of ocean waves.   This is where I am, when I surface.