Seven Shades of Outrage

I.
Plucked deep
below scabbed skin
of the arbor,
a low blow note born
out of winter's warm
caress.

II.
The egg-shaped
office shudders,
loathing imprint
from the asses
of the monsters
who sat there
before.

There will
be more.

III.
The stars are out!
They're not fooled.

The clouds: moving!
They've somewhere
they best be going.

Lips purse, indefinitely
gesticulating distaste,
flickering gestures
of pain.

IV.
Kick habit drenched with acceptance.
Knot spirit shredded to ribbons.
Do what you know is right.
Not what you think does less harm.

Yes I am talking to myself!
Mostly always! And mostly always
I am also talking to you!

V.
The latecomer geese are climbing.

I succeed only where I have failed,
and fail only by trying.

VI.
Forgive my selections of outrage:
they are toes being dipped
into a tempestuous pool.

They are all
I can manage to do.

VII.
The sky darkens.
I have been watching it
without knowing.

Tufts of light's breath
lingers over yonder.

Where I'll be looking
is where I want to be.