words
dare-ment long pent rolls upon his back
relinquished to the words
those dangled by wisps of allusion
born of the void we fill

once on our lips, our baited tips
refuses to ebb
we claw, tiptoe, sprawl upon enigmas
of the clawer, the sprawler
rolling fog over the cloudless skies
prancing amongst the sheep and bunnies

unflinching to beatings, both
of their kin and those
foreign they curl up by the deserted
wriggling out of ravens grip

something shiny, something new,
something borrowed, something felt
words in their infinite
their ilimitablity our prison