Free Write

In time, unplaced out of elements  
retrieved and claimed on reach-  
around syllables despaired,  
unsold in a smirk embroidered  
in satin sails and perique blended  
tobacco.  A slyshot bridged mimicry  
inherent, flood waters retraced and  
engaged to the levee's harlotry.  
Truant, in blackened harpstring  
nautilus shells, organized in  
consequent bands of agoric   
formlessness, and entranced by   
lingered India ink, octiplied in the   
fetal embrace of the drainage-ditch  
homecoming of his only words' echo:  
da Vinci's only code was paint-by-number... 
Would it kill you to smile, Mona?