Sweet Orange, Deep Blue
In thy chambers,
I peer amidst constructive meaning,
I care for those lost,
I care for those deceiving.
I walk in dignity,
& this is so.
— “on forth, to the rhythm!” yells the salmon below.
To move, I beckon from the depths of my soul,
as if I needed words in my ear to behold–
To groove right by,
to shift & to mold,
to make everyday sunny–
as if you care what garbage I am told.
& shadows, & shadows, & shadows– I see.
succulently dousing my spirit in false integrity.
To have found Waldo without even owning the book!!!
oh, but of course! Quite normal you see–
I found him out back,
sauntering to the beat
of a drummer boy,
who owned nothing to eat.
so proposing a question,
Where do all the manners of answered time go?
I think I left them outback– tied up like a stripper to the north pole.
Put on your thinking cap,
dig on in,
& beheld within.
time to reap what I sow,
& to turn against boulders,
to see if they are real
or just calculated mental patterns .