The Valley Contours

Valley contours cut through the horizon.

I rise up the latter part of a summer season.

Slowly.

Much too slow for your eyes to see.

Through your existence I play and play, trying to scare you with every scream of a child.

Curving curving curvy curves.

I like curvy curvs.

His eyes trace the contours again and again, up and down the melanated stream.

Beams of beams blocking the baron barn.

Shelter from the old ones they used to say on the programmes.

Program program program.

The kids gram gram gram.

Suck em in.

We got em.

Stuck in our web.

Not going no where these ones stuck in half twisted ceramic pots.