Cameraman’s Easter

What a constant hallelujah they Southerners
sang in their inconsistent walkings-to.
We few don’t seem to ever fatigue in our
fatigue we heirs to gravity the constant.
Pretty bangings of the pitfell essayists
they do how-do very well, but metronomes
could flay us into ungrieving nonsense.
Mind the oddity that built haphazard minds.
And beds that hum once in a blue moon.
There is no mood like the lazy mood
that wonders at itself how it fell far,
so far into so short a count of decades.
How one prays the lethargy away when
the brain inhabited is not its own companion,
that boggles psychiatry.

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~ by Jeremy on April 8, 2012.

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