scatter the stark sight that sees
intimate concrete circle
sorrowful strain secretes so silent
built by bare homeless hands
striking pounding quiet queer
desperate deeds race with no end
illuminate the isolate
open window wallow
un-hitch the tether tight
purchase a longing perhaps
bent by being a body bare
incentive invitation signed sincerely
deciding not to go
already there, waiting
the guest list grows
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * *
sunday whirl: wordle no 121
….places some people go time and time again, while others never not once. nor notice…
Piece of Pie ala Mode 