It was an incidental second,
a (post) tacit embrace.
Between eyes and hidden from view,
it predictably delivered the bear's chest:
a supreme teddie on a blue body.
What a crude calling.
The martyr is uploaded in a private release.
Symbol-studded streams suddenly appear,
chanting from inside the black bear.
Inject context. Somebody come and wail.
Twitter misfires and refers to the unclear.
Walking man comes back into view,
trafficking in means, typically embraced,
of phantom sources of foregrounded fables.
Behind the mourning, on the outskirts of explanation,
a first man interprets, while another curses.
The leader calls, the men kneel.
It's heartbreaking, he said, the second of three,
on a merciless afternoon of planned poetry,
exporting a patented position intended to expel
the raw, the physical and searing beat of the particular.