A flick of the slick knife
cuts away the wheeze of clinging clauses
and the whirling worlds of wordy wonders
are slashed with a snickettysnack chop chop
into a pile of well ordered ideas
dropped with a thud onto a page.
The truncated stubby ends of sentences heal
under the crack of fresh mint full stops
free from the granulous gangrene of verbosity.
With no bombastic ballast the words go
flap-flap-flapittyflap and soar away
into the horizon of a new thought.
The abandoned ideas flip away
and flop into the dark corner in your head
where they gyre and spiral like
chickens with their heads cut off.
Tick turns to tock as they wait for the
clunk to click into a new beginning.