should this be time
of relentless celebration
flailing and chanting
cockeyed moon jabbers
with one foot stuck in muck
warmer winds render kites
tools to a dimension
between moist hindrances to clear vision
do you know the way west
in the dark
in the rain
with eyes shut
I don’t believe you
tailored temptations right buoys
floating in a slipstream
between paths of least resistance
The Word Rummager 
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