Before it could be constructed it collapsed,
tholing me to truss your talkfests.
As spokesperson of the peripatetic
I’ve had to portage stress
of your sayings in phrenic slits.
Sometime these titubate like the tamp
of thoughtless footsteps tiptoeing on mines
of mythical language, at times these strike
me as my own. Descent of sough dilates
my inner space with its softness.