Wild Slip Of Curious Word

So, this post isn’t an essay about society, but I like it and I hope you lot do too.

Somewhere in the many branches leading to possible adult Riley Carlsons, there is a little lane leading to a future where Riley Carlson is a poet, equal to the likes of e.e. cummings and Shel Silverstein. She is famous for quirky, nonsensical poems that in a way, make sense.

Here is a poem, what do you think of this road?

Music is art, breath. The heart beat, the step, the word, music is like a flowing breath and beat of ecstasy, warmth flowing heart and love the sacred. Slips of patterned bliss and notes of swirl and gait, cry and delight in stemmed in horrors slitted afresh. Nerves of extended leaf touch, and exotic gradual slave. Jump to seize a rest, and let loose symbols of lost tongues attuned. Laugh, rest your head on soft bricks of steel, copper the hand that feeds and peppermint swirl of breeze. I am an elderly flower, rough to the touch and silk to the cheek, grin, florid, whimsy of the hearts three beat anew, lost to times of gear and horse.

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