Witchbrew

Plotting ellipses
Into imaginary clay
Rising into form
Into which cascade
Drapes of words
Lazily, in free form
Marinated
Over sleep or waking
Making selective sense
Non-sense
Do we not prize
Such muse incited
Knick-knacks
Of senselessness
Bottled on the shelf
Labeled
Nothing special
Yet something ticking.

(Penned Nov 25, 2009)