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