Sunny days where the still rain falls,
trickling into the tricked morning glories that have open arms up to precipitance we call precipitation.
And it falls, falls.
Condensed cloudbursts hailing a fine rain drizzle,
...
An atom bit the center’s core.
Crux’s fruit germinating a gist of grain.
A marrow, a matter, a morsel of meat.
A nutty, nub-part.
...
Oh you glittering, golden arches
you’re calling, calling my name.
I sit in neutral anticipation,
waiting for my number six with mayo.
...