Swirls of Dust

Little heads steeped in ironic obsessions

Are less likely to reach out the tassels of

My cushion.

Far-fetched is the legacy that drags us

Behind a veneer of modernism.

Don’t bump your head unless I tell you

For empty heads jingle, then clunk into life

Waking up to ideas lazy enough to be

Metamorphosed into acoustic slices of reality

Down-to-earth and digestible…

I swore an oath to suspend the verdict

To suspend the sanctions yet to come.

Swirls of dust never entertain truth, never

Entertain perennials…