Dominoes

Surf's crash, the chorus...
Old men reading books aloud,

Coffee shop Elijah's, and everyone listens.
Kettle drum hearts beating loud.

Arterial opus conducted from
tongue to ear,

as the gulls and terns
scream their approval.
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Tongue to ear,
the sounds...
Words...
Whispers,
Emotions, singing
choruses of indigo blues
smiling...
Laughing...
Whispers,
My secret.
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My secret?
None really,
searching for secrets?
Always,
but then again, knowledge is not a secret.
It is a treasure box, to be searched for and opened.
To revel in the riches that reside therein.
Secrets? Not really
Knowledge, yes, knowledge.
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Yes knowledge, It has been said that
there have been many who have read themselves stupid.

Rather than communing with their intellect,
they suckle at the breast of opinion and hearsay.

Knowledge, wisdom, the ability to reason
independently from didactic, dungeon dwelling trolls,

waiting for you to cross the bridge of life's experience and
charging you a toll for the privilege...

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Black chalk renderings
on a stark white board.

Bone white, skeletal
Lines quiver, eel.

Dark eyed mistress,
rotten apple on the desk,

teaching tykes mortality
bone finger tutor less.
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Sky tears October, me with no umbrella,
Lacrimae has come.
I lay a wreath at the tomb of the fallen leaf