Stay for a moment and breathe silt air, sit, stay, try to repair,
pray, make vague note of any sign of rare times trying to relate signs
and signals , breaks in sentences, trials from said crimes..
Fair enough, if its worth sighting tried and died in the wool
Mind you it's a high crime to define slug lines in the sand.
A whole band of those I have bought to this uneven land.
Outlandish bonds , bound and tried yet never a trial.
Tried without a court. Sometimes. Somewhile.
A man with vestigial horns scowls at an entrance .
Yet he himself is deceitful and in-denial.
Torn chances, nasty and hating dances, he wishes to be the one who advances.
Deriving pleasure to displeasure the treasure of others.
Yet the isle moves as an Island. Grooved into continental movements away, away,
slowly as roses rise and entwine.
A rosy mind, red-light shining to the point of being blind.
Blinded yet kind, kindred eyes and a meeting of mind.
by Paul Sinclair