acetylcholine pushing movement through fossilized
ligaments put on display and curated to fancy the
curiosity of motion played out in many
daguerreotypes laid out on a table for any ole lookie-loo
to do as they do,
and see the daisies pushing through a body clotted from the exhaustion
of living excitedly mundane
there’s something molding
in the corner of the room,
and it’s moving,
it’s moving,
it’s crawling closer, focusing on the middle,
not all that photogenic,
but it has its angles,
has its poses,
has its je ne sais quoi,
though after a second, just one quick blink,
there’s
poof
nothing there,
i promise
trespassing through
making as little noise as possible,
or constantly shaking the tree
until a nuke carrying the fate of all mankind
shows itself as it wants to be known
Fred Aiken Writing 