For us (Against loose stuff at 4.59 on Wednesday)

Again
It seems that my climbing this incline
Brings down
Fragments and unnecessary debris
And so
I must speak

It rains heavy hail on me
White sludge drools down windshields
Reprieve (as I’d intended previously)
Finds me
In Le Bastringue
With a pint and a cup of nuts

This writing is the motivator
Why I’m here
And of course I know that it won’t employ me
Not upon this old earth at least
Referring to the literal
Ground binding beneath my feet
Undulating at the cruise
Of bipeds and all their swine entanglement

As I walked from Republique
I remembered that I wanted to invest these words
With a panoply of objects
Each significant of some point
In a certain pattern
In front of which
Curtains could be opened and closed
And fire eating tricksters
Paraded on stage

But the circus
As such
Will not be coming to town
T H I S D A Y
And
More importantly
I have to find solid
Damn
Ground
Like that earth of undulation
Below these feet
Constructed from a healthy array
Of mutually perceptive
Synaptic freeways
Bi-ways
Bridge ways
Overpass
Cycleway
And gutter
Cleansed thoroughly
By ordered economies
Of municipal cleansers
Attendant
To harmony
Peace
And love
But for the forever
Of short term
A song at least
That incorporates this shingle
Into rise