Walk, Run, Sit

It's in hurry
that worry wreaks 
its chalk

Bored is gored 
by moment excess 
driven to nowhere 
at just such a speed

Sad's bad flumes 
faddish as the radish 
pulled too soon 
for want of other plant

From hands, birds fly 
obscuring land 
to favor another demand: 
freer wings on smokeless rings

Under blue,
yellow suns unlatch green swoons 
engineered to laugh 
at the useless moon