the traffic the trade routes ..


 the traffic  the trade routes in poetry never end , it's a marketing ploy what pulls eternity by the neck into the sea

railing against the night creating new mediums speaking 'speaking' to you from eternity,
 your breasts which i never kissed, these hearts of soul, gold, roaring, the birds sing, twitter, hold forth courts and cameras, ringing the bells in of a summer's eve,
  and the trade never ends,

 a track peeling off into a forest turning around a corner a new medium spooked by the remittances of old,

 but you must go on,

continue, forsook, forsooth,
         but not worried by this tempera of the old designs, the old guard,
 and its a ringside seat
       for the replete the defeat the incomplete works of your collected Unconscious Printed or Otherwise Known as your love,

hemming in out ward, the long hallward rain,

                 not the flood, either yet  another apparent rainbow rugging the closest forest of enigma drills and not forestry by any other name

and your body, which i missed,

 this narrative aloof and gulp,

 is that word ? Canadian a passive gender to rope all the country palisades,

----------------         (to be recontinued as always )  _______________