crafty miles creep up with vital intent,
toeing waved lines.
A pair of vultures glide in lean routes,
marking bold exes across the grain
of age-stained charts.
Their sudden runs on scented organs
made with strong swoops to fleshy thresholds
of life's tipping.
He discovers in this scaled calculus
that distance, moist but listing, travels
in taut cycles.
It can't defeat the curse of lifting
unbalanced loads with back pushed against
jaundiced fingers.
Ten peckish tips, waiting for victuals
they smell buried in gusty legends
of cornered maps.
— Francis Scudellari
This poem is written in response to Read Write Prompt #97 at Read Write Poem. The challenge was to use the "cut-up technique" of picking words at random. I used words from five recent haiku and short poems, so its a cut-up plus a mash-up. The result is pretty abstract.
