Knuckle-headed

Noises jammed my scan
Static lightning mistakes
Messed my plan
Pit stopped, I smelled
This as another “I can”

Attempt at self reconciliation
Amidst the
Thought traffic jam.
“Ear-ran.”
I ran,
Feet heart beat fast
I reached at last
A place where thoughts
and acts
Cannot crash
Un back lash ash to ash.
Smash.

Thought . . .

Is constant,
Is clear like glass yet
Chiaroscuro in effect,
Is swift and yet
Turbulent as air in flight,
Is rough like a bare
backed, bucking bronc’s haunch,
Is wasted more often than
Not,
Is quick and dead
Before there’s time to think,
Is here and now and then gone
In a

Blink.