"Now, the moon sustains our blows."
More Perihelion:
Bob Sward's Writer's Friendship Series
Taboo Boo
Simply put, this shaggy monster
but bear. In its mind it has shaken its stalker. Now, the moon sustains our blows. but the road, its slithery contractions. since the rear view's been checked for any kill.
lumbers down the breakdown lane
after talking itself out of centuries
of walking in circles, being nothing
Though toothless and slumber-tongued
in its mind it is something closer
to a tempest, a drummer of bodies.
Or jittery, numb-bellied, and encased
in glass and metal we are pelted by reports
of rain, the offspring of nobody
On the wall of the rest area's stall
somebody's scratched a shield with a cartoonish bear
crouched over a forest of stars. It's been ages
Even with bones crackling under the tires
we'll be lucky to register the forwarded fields,
the skill in which we've sliced through tomorrow.
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