A slope of rising road
gains on the pair of us -
forcing silence.
Dusty birds and drunken bees
...
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This is burning, unsettling surrealism...it gets right down into my gut. I don't know meterless free-verse as well as I might, but this really does what a poem should.
Very well done, James...but I don't know what scumbled means, either. I'm going straight to me dictionary. Raynette