Postmarks in Time

Flatlines on the postcards

Cathartic outlines, arrhythmic smirks, shorthanded haikus.

Feelings foreign sent from timelines unknown.

Paid in full memories that just exist.

Flowers pressed against the flow, ebbs that discuss the perfect pheromonal weekends that mural, twist, and

direct the traffic stopped passed their times in endless stay and revelation.

Fault lines in the pottery, fault lines in the scenery.

Communication as effective as the heart aches in safe rooms locked away in

broad daylight, as the panic blooms.

Tremors like worms that spread underneath the surface of Chelsea grins mud molded models the times and time of day affords in organic advertising stress fractures stress in honesty.

Breathe in, Breathe out.

Pericardial embrace saying goodnight a peaceful sign, a piece meal that settles like gravel in the guttural depths of the folds of time.

Honesty that puffs up as scavengers hunt, the infections of wounds slow to heal as they are fed hope that always kills in screened in front porches, reclined in the midday doom.

Mired news, slow myths, and alternative lives that discard the children that loved the progress a drift in orbital mathematics that calculate place, and time.  

Follow the leader.

Postal codes that sign out 

Track the satellite hearts orbiting the distant signals.

Peace meals and full bloom.

Back handed in flat lines our wishes whisper the shapes and shade of the moon.