rock stone ponds

sway to obscure living,
leaving footprints in mud,
humming smoke waves over the hushed canal,
absent thoughts about heartpunches,
paper sternums,
and black beads staring into the late night Ursa Major,
there's an entire carbon load of mixed up code to figure out,
stemming brain shock thumpers that make up myriad word choices,
i don't promise much,
but here's one,
i'm not a poet,
i'm no miracle either,
just restless eyes trying to open full scale,
see the multitude beauty,
and find the strength of honesty