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...
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