TIME SERVED

Honor her voice in me. Where

want knows neither hope nor deceit.

Flown, as if bent in place or

smacked into temporary adjust

filter after total system flush,

revamped by best-in-view anchorage.

Just salty enough, goes

on where the instigations to

instantiation are plumb zero,

bearish on fate, bullfrog

of a guy, no spills. Argument

ages past warrant. Funhouse

carbonization. Folded into lore.

Honor her voice in me. And still

a searing can be seen. Under adequate

convocation, the apparatus collapses on

cue. Far more than would be

impingement. I grieve, in tow,

untie by stalling, as honor

lives by two, habits accent

by holding steady, a lifeboat to

nearly everything. Bridges buckle

weathered to their climate. I

feel as if the days done gone

and left me in this

lone and fearsome blind.