Meditation like Sex

Almost with precision.

The outcome can even be somewhat disruptive.

A trumpeting memory of wild yestreens.

Elicited from a savory cravatted throat.

Silence is what we are seeking.

Here is the sleeping steak.

Found with arrows by his side.

Entombed in the bunkers of empty lands.

Curt and less reminiscent.

All things peripheral in congruence.

I am trying to stay focused, my dear.

Coming to the ages.

Knowledge of work becomes fragile.

We cling adamantly to our talents.

As spiders on silk, piercing and knightly.

Eating with absentee remorse.

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Published by

errorattic

Writer, aspiring farmer and homesteader in North Georgia, making ends meet and trying to become more enlightened.

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