Mourning Pages Further

(--on the margins of the lifeshow
as it ganders pulling focus, all is all: )

routing vessel, pressure yields to waste
over mumbing transport insults
where metaphor & meaning hobble--

the heart would feed the limbs out of its bird-hands
while head pretends a valve in failing faith

here is the room, here the misspent lode of solitude
sold into blind wells by scarcity & marker-bed floods

(where is the balance gear to roll the rusty loader
past the hurdles spiking the tumbler path?)
room is no room if abstract space lose ground

foam & roam, room to room: a land anchor out of paper folds

all is all, more is more & never the twain shall meet
in this fractured, dwindling life from bed to verse
in one fell swoop of dictionary desire

even off odd culverts by the piled debris
nothing is forgotten, nothing is forgiven

a simple game of all-too-serious tossers
gambling higher stakes away