Mystique Nothing

{Bed

Flat, besides junks disunited:

Laptop, with aged's rolls,

a comb with her arraigned pillows

The floor

Clothed as rugged

Others

But myself be

unnecessaries as I lie with a boxer

Irregularly to

write}

about dead flashes daunting--

Rustling pipe-like,

Elephant grasses, green n' grown

Sharp, alive n' could itch

Strong n' so's no sweat

The time must be dry

No rain drops had dropped,

No Summer (sun) in Africa

No Autumn's yellowings in Africa

No Spring springs in Africa

No Winter evenings in Africa

But it was dry

Or rainy

The picture's healthy -

Other grasses lacked identity now

Flashes are restrictions

The grasses are green but there

was rustling

Tussling

rushing

tearing

pacing

drawing

through the grasses

Only little was I

Infantry had had me hard fancies

No words for but to

Wait lurked in

Wonderings. Thus we was all curious once commonly:

Curious was I, what was rustling the

Green straws

Goat straws

My goat straws

My goat straws when we had no feed for it

Could it be it

Or just another hit?

Another reminiscence had had me hard

Repeatedly:

A spiny green snake on arid ground

In a shop -- my ma's

was with me, but was first with that

Dried shoot. Was killed but the memory sleeps alive yet

with the rustling as it swooshes

by with its vibes approaches

Stiffen was I

Like a caught cockroache's

What rustles this pasture

Of straws, my

goat? A giant snake?

The big-toothed dog

With piecing claws that cut me years before?

Or something running towards claw in fur

Running around like a chicken with its head chopped off?

Curious mind

Tender us we bind

It was it

My it

My thing

But not like nothing

Was old and agile

Fragile mother of many goats

My totem of hope

Another stronghold in the hours of need

It staggered out of the straws

Regurgitating the straws

Grinding it forth and back

Gazing me right

Right in the eye

The gaze spoke in words,

It is I, (be not afraid)

It bleats by

Its babes came by.

Jodekss

©2017