Exquisite Corpse II

Didn't I

yes, surely already I have written this.

Still, it rambles about the skull and goes on, so

Didn't I, once, have the willpower, the trained brain 

to refrain

from constant recital?

The lilting laugh of lyrics, lists, liturgies, lamentations,  the rote recital of ten words,

these litanies left stained between my ears.

These litanies left stained between my ears

Left tangles between the waves of my hair

That my fingers cut through like birds in the soft spring air

A chirp tone matches a car on the highway

The river ripples the water down and back from bay to ocean

While symphonies of feathers play the sound of their commotion 

Our simple river sings by shadows of flagpole birch and heather 

The waves of the river sing with the marine flag and the city flag and the state flag

And the birds find drafts in the air

And the calls of the birds find drafts in the air

I think of the ocean and the feeling of salt water on skin

Concurrently sinking and rising constantly for breath

While symphonies of feathers play the sound of their commotion

Round the ceiling like churchbells on the day of a death

Didn't I round the ceiling with stains and symphonies

left behind by where the salt leaves the sea

and feathers find their flow and just go to

Refrain from chirps and the commotion of fingers

drumming on the chest

the soft river,             sea,      wave and flags and the still

of the hallelujah

when you find and feel the break, the breezy draft

of the rise and the fall

- that heather breath.

Didn't I ramble once on the echo and refrain? Chorus ripples