The Tentacles of Syllables

The Tentacles of Syllables
by Gideon Burton

Hold on – too many curling tentacles
of syllables.  The fusions didn’t hold
so well. I fear we may have grown too bold;
a smoking film upon the spectacles
betrays the oil of fingerprints.  This spread
of mumbling circumstance beyond the reach
of twine and knots, or these parentheses
(mean-spirited or kind) the last degrees
of nervous breath will still attempt to teach
old molecules to quicken from the dead.
The feint and wavering of upper boughs
suggesting second choruses (or more)
cannot achieve the crease that evening scores
along the sober whisperings of now.

Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgment of authorship. Photo: flickr - Tricky