tom taylor

or set what’s held

the newer score enables your motion forward
alert to someone newer inside your skin at last
as some description follows you outward toward now
and holds the air among your sour moods like light

it’s no matter to the skin who fills the air inside
familiar music crowds the surroundings like this
claim you’ve made at time without foreclosures
where your comfort marks the line inside your heat

blinking lights prevent the message from going out
or in to your pool of information gathering dust again
yet schemes the tune later new than knot or after this
scheme what’s told or made infirm in memory’s laps