Today, you throw stories
- slice landscapes,
puncture silhouettes,
wire the whole giant in script.
A dawn jog fires your wheel
- splattering black-red paint,
incinerating the grey you forsake and grind into a path you abandon, repeatedly, in a rhythm,
thumping.
Today, you stamp a heat, caressed in your palms;
tomorrow, you let a cold, baked husk fall and crack on contact.
- slice landscapes,
puncture silhouettes,
wire the whole giant in script.
A dawn jog fires your wheel
- splattering black-red paint,
incinerating the grey you forsake and grind into a path you abandon, repeatedly, in a rhythm,
thumping.
Today, you stamp a heat, caressed in your palms;
tomorrow, you let a cold, baked husk fall and crack on contact.
