the keyboard of my life has keys enough
to tell a tale to fill a world
with endless physiognomies –
the Irishman says with a flourish
confident in his power to hold
the crowd of eager listeners
spellbound
a petal drops from the flowers
in the rustic earthenware vase
falling in slow-time tablewards
1-2-3-fo – nearly to five
count I, wondering at the power
of things happening all around
around
but I would give it all up, he avows
all? me wonders –
for one glance, one brief moment with
– time suddenly chokes on the enormity
of a simple three-letter word
his “all”
failure to compute flashes on screen
– in the high cedar grove
behind the wall
a crow objects
sandpapering over the cracks
in the moment’s creaky to-and-fro
stentoriously
with her, croons the Irishman
to gentle approbation
with her
as if once wasn’t enough
with h
at which I fade to oblivion
utterly defeated
by the moment’s turn
turn, tur
somewhere now – beneath the floorboards
a wee sleekit beastie
neither tim’rous nor cow’rin
calls me to mind
and breaks the spell of
things half heard
half known
ha' felt
looking up I finds
my mind atop the church spire
of beauty’s ebb and flow
the tidal waters that neither sun
nor moon quite understand
yet somehow –
influence
sloshing around a squeaky weathervane
as only light can
a monochrome of words
a tickertape of intent
fishing for fowl
caw – remonstrates the crow
ever claiming the last word
while my keyboard
key, kee
gently weeps
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