BESPOKE and THE EMPTYING OF AN IMMACULATE TRUNK

Bespoke

The misty sun shines

down through the valley,

which time and earthen

agony—waters and enduring

gales—bespeak with harsh

amplitudes and indifferent precision.

A coalition of environmental

effects lends, unto the

breach, majesty and mundanity—

the latter a concept

bespoken through truncated lifespan

and evoluntionarily perfected solipsism.

—————

The Emptying of an Immaculate Trunk

How cumbersome we are!

These capillaries and these

veins.  Arteries pumping it

all with antithetical vigor.

Brain and pancreas, skin

and everything found beneath,

sinew and bone erecting

it, as it perambulates.

Edifying moonshine cowers tonight.

Dark upon further darkness

basks the lampless avenue.

Pedestrian encounters unexpected companion.

He philosophizes about cumbersomeness.

Her strides begin widening.

Around a corner she

stumbles—her ankle broken.

Shrieks dematerialize against the

ebon.  He stoops and

reasserts his critical musings,

then lightens her load.