I was in a park.
I was in Central Square.
I was the center of a vast circle.
I was circumscribing the knowable,
But the windy boats with their anchors sunk in super deposition,
and wounded, the tuna, like the nail-biting clergy,
whipping, migrating, whiffling, a fraternalia, a prize-walk.
Wise reader, these poetic chunklets are from the pen of my dear friend Jac Nelson and can (should!) be located in the full, proud form here.
Please go, read, have your language hunger sated.