Matutinality

What'll I Write... he Muses, surveilles the nil Wind, windowy visage, & gateswayed key-pad, like a cyber abacus to touch & stroke, counted- on to reveal it's whilom Mysterlex, vener- able... Sunday, a small gaggle of Ibis, like a short-stack @ the Pamcake House, gather to beak the night-sogged sand & soil - Yes, it is Raining, & what'll I Write onto this Sky heavy with no sound, Divemy - to Alpha-Bet- souper-bowl-Day to score & yield 1st-touch-Words, off-costume, aplenty like Muskmelonseeds al centro, resplendent like an occasion, of the Yes-twoDay's a mazed Prosetrycopia!, huh! - What shall I Write, In- Deed!?, but Linnear... and Quantumescent, A Sirge in Time to the Muse of Rhyme, I Am...