Flights Of Imagination - Poem by Brian Arguello
They scatter allusively then gather once more in a flock.
Lady Fortune's wheel spins and spins;
She scoffs and mocks and grins.
Fate is dead.
Twirls her ribbon, bloody red overhead like a lasso.
And the light has yet to catch us.
Find the shadows where we can laugh.
Find the mouth of a mine shaft where psych's learn because fantasy sweetly ferments.
Then it churns.
Like knocking back a glass of ‘what's it called'
That burns the good burn and warms the belly.
Drop down, stop, shock, turn the brain to jelly.
Where we can laugh to catch a breath and leave off sighing.
To be abysmal, not stern.
Calm with life.
Where we can laugh
Where the light has yet to catch us.
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