around a planetoid-ish bustling azalea
with an abundance of blooms…
Like electrons delicately
whizzing ’round an atom nucleus,
except that they sometimes
alight upon the surface doing their
much more biological guzzling of nectar.
And all I do is watch like the
eye of a distant spiral galaxy in awe…
timelessly, endlessly as the business
The fascination is either with something
that is happening on a microcosmic level,
Or it isn’t, and it’s just the hypnotizing
acrobats pulling my attention into their
buzzing zone—their slight-of-wing trick, invisible
but for an inter-dimensional fluttering sonic insinuation.
The awe comes from the shame of knowing
I will never be that tricky or that zen.
I am defined by lumbering… despite to what
my younger self aspired.
Like this poem it either
is chock-laden-bulging with meaning
or it is an empty non-sonnet with words
that make no synaptic connection at all…
just a lot of flighty alliteration that
dances ’round the ear…
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