Tabernacle

Build it — that crooked temple, your crooked temple...

Blink

A blink is a pause and a stanza breaks...

Where then does a kiss go when it leaves your lips...

Ten thousand hatchlings stride the web...

Take every word you cannot write...

Nightly, I conjure a meet, send out the riders with their slick hooves...

Several folks have seen it, that auburn smudge in the corner...

More rust than red, the ant probed...

The locals call it “The Leap”, that red granite ledge high on the palisade...

A tick lay dormant in the grass — decades, still as a pepperflake...