Feste's Lute

Scribbles & Sketches of the Unspeakable

You know what I really wish people would raise? Awareness. I’m talkin’ suuuuper high up there. Higher. Higher. Okay—perfect. Thanks.


the homophones stack
to abstraction.

“See a spirit?
Spear it, quick.”

And if I must explain,
limbs detach
and won’t go
near it.

Signed release,
a piece unsettled,
their mettle rises


Upon review,
rewinding what mattered;
her narrow vines
round wrists
(hanging writs).
Runaways fain
pencilling pavement, unsteady
as treetops eclipse
their heady maize.
A kiss,
delighting legs unsteady,
planar fates align
and pencil crude matter,
unsteady and narrow.
The pavement shatters,