
Gaps within tree canopies beckon me to collapse
into atoms and relapse into a state of ascension.
Perhaps the maps were incorrect and the lapse
was in the detailed lack of attention.
The facts act as a parallax for lies
spoken and woven in different dimensions.
Cracks in ancient wax unwraps scraps from the
traps during the detainment of good intentions.
Bats in rat-black hats crash through the slats of
my derangement’s intervention.
Forcing the protective gnats to attack
the pack of zodiac butterflies’ craft
for unpacking my comprehension.
Smokestacks billow beneath the cognac pillows
I use to intoxicate the lilac widows threatening
my dreams of commitment with apprehension.
I siphon temptation to accumulate sensation
from ravens invading the basins I use to
irrigate hydration. I fuse my frustration
to booze to elude conversations which
choose to abuse my meditation. I bruise
bluish hues when I diffuse the screaming
demons bleeding rhythm and blues vibrations.
Galloping clouds majestically soothe my inner patience
while simultaneously trampling the cumulus impatiens.
I conversate with birds and lack the need for interpretation.
Dissipating into wildlife, becoming an illustration.

About the Creator
Kale Sinclair
Author | Poet | Husband | Dog Dad | Nerd | Zen Practitioner
Find my published poetry, and short story books here!
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