I hid me some of the stones for they were mercurial
and fastidious- not withstanding shadow or some
thus I felt, thus I didn't hersistate to do
thus I smothered, thus I bellied or meme or more or yes
accept a gift from me
thus the bed, thus did the limbs weakening and
pretending and wishing and wishing and wishing
through?.
I hid me the moon and tis sort of claims and tis sort of
repeatations and fumblings and tumblings and
resournances and flatterings and grosteque pictures
and nightmares.
I hid me the moon
lest trees drape them or otherwise sometimes water?.
Like thunder scolds
the big trucks roll
eighteen wheelers rumbling
turning, rounded tumblings
static cling above the blacktop sounds;
each load heavy and unmarked
catastrophic diesel sparks,
rhythm pounds loud along the tarp,
tractor trailers clapping along the ground
from the midwest highways bound
slipping thru the backroad byways,
juggernaut bartering the tolls on a skyway
four wheelers piggyback tows
convoy escorts ever on the go;
beating down the macadam and concrete
trucking down the inner streets
transportation, what a feat.