Sour

where sour-toe walks
time’s pendulum towers
you see it
at City bus sidewalks
,in transitory cues

a monster as perceptible as
anxiety
with its own dogma and
acolyte providence
was there ever a history
peopled with a disinclination to
truncate variety 

where sour-toe spits
the quantum anatomies materialize
a productivity contraption
incapable of creation

can only organize
what is and
what has always been
expires, farts
is amused

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

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