Spoke a friend a long time

Of times now and short days

Wispers faint on moods

No riding seas or trumpets

Spoke from an outer heart casing

Not mantel, a tie to the inside

Spoke on friends, memories of laughter

Some sadness a morphed reality

Again a radiating tie to inside

Yet, moving away circling back

Spoke to family rolling and missing

All the thought word connections circle

Like a wheel inside out, wobbling with

A hub indistinctly spoked to a tinny wheel

The wheel rolls through the world, dragging

A spoked heart piercing soft tendrals into

Forgotten ground still tamped infertil paths.

Spoke in tension at length, spoke in compassion compression

Honest retort, spoke to you spoke back spoke to me.

The uniform space discribing the form becomes

Wheel, becomes a record bouncing each nub

There is neither tension or compression continuous

rolling thumping each spoke infinate virtical variation

Falling forward and the next, orbiting the truth.

If I hide my truth the colapsing spokes flay about

Unspoken forms hurling towards friendly targets

Circling circling, circling forms circle past.

Unrimmed. Gathering the ditris of others.

Yet rolling on perfection hidden from view.

Small pebbles of steel, circle around

Ignorant of its load but sharred.

I am tired, rimmed, tread, spoke

A hub an axle to carry a load

Rolling along.


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