The Endlessness of Nothing

The start or St.Art?.
but where?

on the corner by the neon sign?
under the clock at Waterloo when it's
striking nine?

the third eye is my guess
but I improvise and
devise ways to bolt
lightning to the floor
and
always 
always want to do more.

easily distracted
I dismantle tall building
abseil from mountains
and fire on four cylinders,
the Saint paints in the 
missing figurines as the
menagerie dreams on.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

Poem

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O.J. Hunt Avatar
January 26, 2018 at 2:49 PM
Very creative write John; I like writes like this which leaves some kind of gnosis, tinkling at the fingertips, deserves many reads to truly appreciate;-)
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