March 25 by The Running Son
sum aint the whole
shards detach. small bits shimmer.
particles of heavy matter undulate,
nervous ticks from inner frequencies
trying to be all they can be, you see,
not just piecemeal sums anymore
because Im done with these new maths,
these super glue adhesives, silly puddy
packed in cracks and replacing awol pieces
til no one notices these parlor acts but jesus.
by Jim Aldrich (:
.namaste. -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •- .namaste.