sunday, wednesday

these three-
sit
stand
lean,
barefeet
the twisted weave
damn near spoken without
a word
grunge riff,
punk kick,
second line mean street beat

these three beasts
frazzled
savage
fully trusted… somewhat rusted elegance,
in performance
some sort of feral divine
but-
if
the solitary stage light
be drawn from none else
than
that static
pane
carved out upon
one
wall-
in single window light
they reign
supreme

these three,
beasts,
they be friends…
nay, beyond.

of some incomparable stature,
see?

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