joy to the Strollers
who watch Morning straddle the hills
bow-legged from the burden of revelation,
or catch the wrack of Mockingbirds
tussling over a Corn of truth;
even the streaks of Condensation
resemble Stretch Marks as if
a confined prophet were exhaling Breath.
thrill to the Poets
who amble without Notebook or Pen
leaving those wives with gendarme eyes,
and let memory sleep about with Day’s trinkets
shameless Animal trysts;
especially the Jeweled
elation of entering into
a woman wearing Nothing.
Joseph Byron Bennett
Bennett Diction 