meandering

meandering along a mump-filled landscape,
I stop on the side to ponder infinity.
that doesn’t last long, so I
catch a train to loudville,

leaking lame lordships as I go.
arranging types of tangos in unseemly
tarantula keepsakes, I feign a stop
at Angelo’s, my favorite restaurant

on the coast of the Panhandle.
Trying desperately to tell the truth,
but failing miserably, I sort out
creatures from down below.

Catching a cold from outer space,
I tango with misses and mice,
teaching telling telegraph-making
to first-graders in eleven school districts.

oh, the time I had, keeping up!
yodeling as I went, I walked up
the nearest mountain only to
find myself alone in a deadly forest

full of angelic and christological morbids.
“care for a cup of tea?” they asked me,
but I was the wiser and opted for goat milk.
such is the jouney I had that day.

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Author: Gordon S. Bowman III

Writer, Visual Artist, Blogger, Advocate

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