For Dillinger

it was hard to
recognise at first

the prospect
of the notion
dawning upon a
wiped hot sweaty brow

was a little
too much
to start with

but as it,
the thing
that was
inevitable.
tanspired

towards a reasoned
kind of virtual

a reality
held in process
in a mind long lost
to thinking
way beyond santa claus
and his presented box of delights

sultans
quiver
at new dawns

it lingers
in an aura

i could see it.
i could smell it

fathomed but
not relinquishing
just accepting
that this
may be it

final curtain falls

that encapsulated
departed youth
rolls over
still tired

into a phased
late middle age
dancing in darkness

i vainly
meander
possibility
of further
mis-adventuring

i fight helpless
childish visions
blackout drapery
traps the inevitability
of all this

priceless
laughable
doctrine

handed down
prescribed
by authors rites

who can think
the message
to me
and you
at all times

i seek to thrill
chase beyond this

Is Dillinger to return?
Outlaw hands held out
anarchy fires bullets
into the imagination
may it be a million stars

we arent who
we think we are
quite yet.

war is here again