then I’d rather be looking at the Taj Mahal,
but if blind we cannot see the cobwebs.
It’s a feeble influence felt between fingertips smooth or rough
that makes me laugh at dandelions in the yard.
Detecting what is essential to embrace my sensibilities,
so as not to lose my corrugated mind in flurry without words.
Collection of phrases in my shirt pocket along with ash
haven’t yet made a journey for their destiny.
Scrambling triumphs are turns around
pages of dreamy thoughts that hum when words keep
pushing and shoving like a street brawl I haven’t witnessed yet.
Thanks for the wordle Brenda!
* used all except: hovels