Saying I compose mentally, the words I’m
about to type on a blank sheet in my mind
isn’t too far from reality; when reading ‘em
I ken its a better way t’ come to terms with
what wasn’t even imagined, on beginning,
vague ideas maybe, just rudimentary, old-
hat phrases too jaundiced to let out loose
into dispossessed compassion’s redress
but there they are - re-birthed in this naive
bier of nascent mitigation. I’ll probably ask,
y’all going my way, relieved the gestation’s
a full-term event and basking in a cradle of
stolid straw; its okay, we’ve got th’ stage to
ourselves for the time being - so let’s play
with scenery, create an atmosphere where
the rules can’t interfere with us having fun;
all we’ll define is that meanings must be at
least clear enough to weather second, and
third glances - with the subtlety embedded
where literacy extends its lateral indemnity
that’s where we’ll leave it be to mature into
a form which will keep it safe - the glaze of
a smooth finish habituates even sceptics if
appraised where this filigree came from; in
a mind’s-eye-blink it’s the creation of a fey,
and untrammelled, latter-day revelation
© 5 December 2016, I. D. Carswell
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