There are devils in these riddles,
drone needles weaving occasions in the stiches of dissonance,
echoed of gamate sniping thrills of vagrance,
the fluctuation electric!.
Energy, a thousand-fold volt, intricate, fuses,
failing, and so curves a mesa out of spiral chiralities,
atomic ghost charges in the creases of tapestry,
a trip shunt circuit,
evocative of a symphonic score,
beating the cuckold!.
I, a sheet, a fabric,
a trip shunt circuit,
fading far so as roses do!.
Ships tatter sails in these gales,
waves flow full and arise the ferocious shallow reefs,
grounds shore and slit a ship’s bow,
the ghost sinks to the depth of sediment,
a wreak deep!.
High are the hours unfurling as the surf ages free, recovery,
and fortune saves the vision for a fish!.
This life, cracked,
a hollow retreat dearer then the drowning,
further then fracture, fading far so as roses do!.Www@QuestionHome@Com