Roman

Stumble Up and Down

As I stumble, spilling
the hot cup of uncertain
tea I would do swell to
remember arbitrary chess
when pawned, rooked,
and good nighted by rule.

Structures are prologues
to rust and decadence 
where wills and thrills
roll themselves, cubes,
down girders, to prove
that dots connected only
by edges fall without the
help of theory.

Sheep are ishness in
carnate, at odds with
even bubbles, for wool
as building material
leaves a scratch to be
desired on the taut
residue of my former neck.