Feste's Lute

Scribbles & Sketches of the Unspeakable

Beard

When you say genuine
I think of theaters
and trapdoors,
sandbagging above
all of our props
and propositions.
Spirit gum will clearly show
just how far we’ve grown.

Thread

Drove reckless
for the turn —
of phrase, of fables
fading in the day.

Made light
by shining,
by bright, clear
drops
of condescension.

My patterns are
unmade,
knots on gravestones
soon forgotten.