Daily Poem

Jagged flight
whether there is breeze
or flat calm

Wrong disease due to
black bite at the
old rat farm

Lost fees
poor predictions
reading palm
all night

Lost dead
No head
Left fled
wet debt sight


The wing remains the thing
that flicks the air without
wit or care, but
it is definitely there

The wind remains undaunted
by the open doors it passes
rattling the hanging beads
in the hallway dances

The wind is believed to be
and yet runs about naked
we claim to see it

When we can’t
we think it’s going
where it wont