Samples, bunk-bed
Chargers that had wooden
Stilts I treated like slats
To enoughish
I put houndstooth crawlers in my walls to
Hold up what you think if
For gummy candy.
Those little kids fishing on piano keys
Wished for much more out of life
Strife, Adversity, some fight, some conflict within myself
Merely became an Art Form
Then Algorithm.
Now it’s Genre-Less and the Math
Is
Always.Chaotic.
I sold you serenity for roasted chestnuts when I froze
Some mountain yelled and came and got me out
The glacier.
The dust killed my smell ages ago
And somehow
Your flighty fragrances remind me of my
Expansive conceptual-like Home.
Gutter, trash, sewer, mud, waste.
I choose to sample that in flasks and turn them to heat;
Then suddenly you’ve met.
The Raindance Recycler..
petrichor - archive 