Wonderings 1

I am not a fourletter friend;

An invader.

Neither am I a fortress

Or a lack luster kite,

Or another dorm mate.

I am not a habit

Or divergence,

A king creole

A kindred casket.

I will not share a whole

With you.

Though a grave awaits us,

I cast doubt on doubt

And will neither sprinkle

Of have sprinkled

This lovely fertile

Earth upon us.

I watched and waited

Throughout life,

And conclude

With naught

Or little regret,

Having faulteted.

So now,

I finally concede.

I have in fact

Already given up

My spool.

And by writing my telegraphs

I connect

With the ultimate

Collective,

I shudder and think.

Again the thoughts

Drain onto the balancing table.

And I scratch the wood

With my plane.

On this surface

Will I eventually make gains.

And in this Century

Link my couplets

To make sense of it.

C2019. Christopher Thompson