Slightly Startled, Started!

What hangs next, with now,
from openness of sky

can dawdle past recollection
of your possible knowing.

But if it augers in the hub
of your calcined skull,

to hiss the falling
fine rain, to complain
beyond limits

and inceptive of buildings,

you can have a gross run-on
with just about anything.

A plaintive distortion gone

awash with surly marbles

sparked hard and miraculous

despite the fewer and lessened
arrival of true miracles each year.

The ingrained redundancies
that are kept tired and smudged,

suddenly meant better, falsely

wanton to your added flare.