Locked Inside a Floating Plank

So many thoughts on so many things and I’m hiccuping inside my eye sockets

Writer’s block, lover’s block, home songs and still clocks…tick/tock

Lingering pedestals and empty pews are aligned in my veins

Old words feeding on my capilaries

I’m collecting secrets to put under the lake-bed rocks that align the front of my home. some hold keys, others hold locks.

Decode these braille dots but don’t mind the mess

Think like a child and paint the rest with your fingers

A mess only for those that are too old to understand how clean it really is

All the lord’s work they take in stride.