FRYBread

FRYBread

Iff
eye had a concrete plan it has failed to solidify.

Unless
myself did have a brick in hand it hardened not.

Back
when I had the solid rock it fell away eye kept it not.

When
the solid of life has come it slims to none.

After
we have ate the bread it softens some.

Batty
Bake Batty bake in the pan.

During
the discourse of the entire impediment of life the ingredients the
very DNA were missing links.

Cold
slabs of hardened steel under softer blankets wool.

Sustenance
is never found in jail.

Bread
fries on angel wings of grace in the hot Deseret sun. When the bread
fries the angel singes with his wings. When the bread fries the angel
sings about the bread and gives. Bread is life a single dollar bill
given in haste and torn in half life is not the dollar given then but
bread found scrounged fallen from the angel’s wings into mye
dumpsters then no dollar amount written in the till we meet again.
What is expert knowledge but someone’s intuitive folly why does
it have to be book learned to be a hit. Most good ideas come unbidden
to the poets feast his fest turned smitten to the dollar sign. Mye
bread will fry.