[Please see Trail Map for Details]
Standing at the top of the ledge
and I’m looking down.
I can see the way to the bottom,
as this face is
steeping me in renditions
of heard regards
and pronunciations
of leveed trance.
The horns pulled at
my eyelids,
my pupils
become student body;
a prostration of
turned on condensations.
It’s okay,
if it rains while I’m going over
the final run;
she’s groomed & ready to be tread on.
And I’m looking down,
as I’m steeping my wharfed
recollections in mapped dogma—
not a leash in sight.
Just my toes in the water
& my ukulele.
It’s another day at Gore Creek.
thepoliticsofkendra.com 