Diary of a fuse collector.

Breaker switches to the you heard it here

brass fused sun on bone to take the shine 

Off the ragtime tea chest thirsty work 

recording and collecting my senses 

browsing spun out freeze dried posies.

——–

often waiting for the electorate results

Intellectual tissues at the tilted reds 

on instinctive insults the dogs shoulder 

blame to shake off Citrus peels 

and gold leaf napoleonic quinces

Of the garrison child left by plated sundial.

———

a weeks a long time when collect the calling 

cards of suspects fighting over directorys of

Oldest professions as they now mimic scrapped

arithmia inducing amusement arcades. 

———

The hand held rings worn back through 

Sharp as a tourist rolled dime now 

hidden in folds of meren docker.