A Wheel turns

 
A wheel turns
in my direction;
tis faultless my standing
of noble notion
 
but broken bones
my spirit lit;
guileless my s t r e t c h i n g
to the corporeal limit
 
when turned on spit
or standing off,
beaten to pulp
to minnowed guffaw
 
I will hold on
I will not bequeath
to strange luck
any fortitude besieged
by spleens red,
or hearts carved,
barks peeled,
over beggar's head stooped
 
at curling stings rim
and portent loop of jugular
crane
the surprise beckons me
to turn and make good a saying
that has of yet never been met
by your ears or mine
but yet I must say it

I must say it again..