There comes a time, even then we can’t say for certain.
Dressed for Holiday
By Tyler Lucas Mobley
Jettison my darling, find this common wake,
throwback pairs of defining lights, smirking
sky bounds unrequited, dressed for holiday.
Chariots of exacting grace fiddle across our
pendulum planet. Veiled modalities pierced by
opposing ends, cogent leaps of boomeranged
expressions surface over pent up millenia.
Sojourned doubt dances over the void, the
grand swath of limerick contusions, embodied
with gallant strides through our one true vein.