aloning-ning

the rusing charm of this daunting-ness
is leaning me on upon its snares
no mattering is ’rounding around
wandering illusory morsels chewd
are tossing themselves near
gnawing away looking down
with their weathering hands
here begging too

what why is there for pursuing
then is nowing when is nowing then
breathing is by measuring mystical lots
doling out in a many well worn nots
the ground is ever softly softlying
all motion is retarding retarded retarding
here on and on into tiny-ing little slots

nothing i’m seeing is ever seen
whispering is a silently forbidden forbidding
’cause sounds they’re seemingly swelling
no thing is ever being heard
knowing is always pleading absurd
so never in need of these words

Copyright © 2014 Asili Ya Nadhiri