mighty stalks of corn in the city

[saw]

here I am again
pen in hand, still...........
poised for greatness
in the ho hum air of the front porch

here I wait, eyes locked like laser
on the cherry tree, but
it's sublime black arms
have nothing to offer me

here I focus on green waving leaves
bye-bye they seem to illuminate,
the answers you seek aren't here
you need to look beyond me

the clouds, have the fascination
if you build it ....they will come....
like mist to temper the gray particles
like water dripped upon the face and down

set the stage, prepare to intercept...
concepts traveling very near your head,
reach out, gently reel them in, the poetry...
growing like mighty stalks of corn

in the mourning sky of the city

[the mingo]

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