ghosts on the bandwidth

glance over your shoulder

trestles from the bridge you run across falling

rope swing to the bottom of the canyon

river silt mineral smelt salted on the granite sweltering in the sun.

upon gathering yourself you also have the remains of trestles to retrieve, of which you will render into rafts

saunter into further patches on the hunt for local ghosts .who to toil with this season. I’m in hot pursuit of a leisure.

a disciple in pain at my pleasure. a teaser trailer. teen sailor. tailor-made tween trend setter. tine. wince preen.

toe to toe. my peripheral spy on perpetual curves.

tramp on the bandwidth. limited campout time amongst the sinewy, relatively sizeless lines of the electro-eternal.

we ride in our vessel of context. boss on the perplexed. torque of tomorrow’s utilitarian bio-diesel drones.

spiraling around steeples. all eyes on the Jing-a-ling king. my mind is on the minutiae.

I am the cadillac of coddle. plush comfort of soft context.

our smiles relate but our kisses make decisions.

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