Crisscross 360

I fail thru ditches,
I fail around peaks,
following which
I grow outward roots in all directions.
The only rootless failure is an atrophied approach.
I steal oddities from the ordinary
by avoiding jargon as often as I can.
Fancy phrases swell my head
like a bloated gut, boring my viewers
quicker than a drilling tool does.
I use verbs that intersect with daily commutes and invite the pedestrian on an enriching tangent.
I coordinate every detail of my artistry
like a Cirque du Soleil choreographer
creating crisscross motions in mid-air.

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