-backyard parliament-

There we become
the spell to break spells
and drink confessions of the passing crowd,
poured out willingly into our patient cups in platinum thoughts, only overflowing from many streams:

not carved in wooding stratifications; but flowing
in fleeting currents to mock parables
by words dipped in gnomic ambience,
with our many open bottles…
and uncorked minds by shredded reasons in high places…

sometimes we laugh
gaining bent rays from the Sun,
and then we laugh again
and ask where all the open bottles have gone,
like that fourteen rain drops
at the back of all things…

and with our lingering legend,
we seduce many latent aristocracies
with shots of good hope…

and we laugh
and laugh again…

-Kenneth Christie-Atiti

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