George (Autopilot)

something so lite so overwhelming
the rise
the sad
sand, sinking all
dog barks, a reminder
some live for questions and some
love livid reality, lapping at the marrow.

what a strange eastern european tradition,
lapping at the piddle marrow, when there's so much
meat circling the bone.

if unspoken, tradition
shutter a whispering
need, call it a habit.
and if you turn off a thing
never desired

something so lite
so overwhelming
the rise, the sad sand, the sinking
all dog barks, some live for questions
some love livid reality, lapping at the marrow.

(incomplete first draft)