©David Braden, 2020

O there is hand.

An arm. Next: eye.

(Ear always here)

The dam breaks.

And World sings

a unison:






An anthem

worth of sins

folded first in halves then

quartered. Eighths, sixteenths,

ancient thirty-seconds,

an origami nanoflower

fashioned from a foil

gum wrapper

then floated downriver


Yet, see here

my implicit, complicit friend

how the inside

increases in verses

to universes of Bloom –

fusions of darkness.


For inevitable being but

a cheap five syllable

word and absurd

only two

by two

the tubas march

between rows of stones.


Please passeth us

lithely a handkerchiev

within the silence of a time:

a stolen hour, slices of

soggy lime lying gin-drowned

at the bottom of

the Well-Glass


not even Alice, alas

could be saved

by a clean pair

of twos


In the cold sky before us

not everything, of chorus

must needs make sense.

But this?  This was just

the be all and the end all

of a new chesire dawn.


Unstoppered. Mocking.

Rocking us to the core

of branches we so slyly,

easily slip from,

putting fun back

in f-f-f-Funnel!


©David Braden, 2020

           David Braden is an Elementary Literacy Coach in Oakland. His new CD, “Air Echoes with Layers of Inchoate Words” can be streamed at:


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