11-5-2008 The Little Archie That Could

A circuit splits. Heirs to the cobwebbed throne
of Abstrusebury march with measured feats
up to the fact stacks highest point. Their moans
melt in the lip-parched wind. A circuit meets.

Resistance does not halt their swift retreat
back down the hill to spill on rustling paper.
Thatonegirlsass, stirring between the sheets
of mist, haunts meme-mounds to the east. Shiftshapers

of the more modest grades cannot escape
the cloud-crowded branches that bore or will bear
unknown fruit. Circuits split and meet. Sky scrapes
some rusty leaves in a  clenched pile that stares

perpendicular to the plane of thought.
Awareness gathers on an empty plot.