like a spanish fly

estranged
în melancholy
and silence

my soul

cranches everything
and all,
lives in a golden-green cantharidin world
with its (specific) strange
smell

(but I guess it's better to feel something than nothing)

on a silver platter
with a sprig of time
and a wedge of lime. Some

have soured. Some have
burned. Coating cloaks
the cracks in a sheen of

spinach green. But underneath
it crumbles. He bumbled
the whole thing from cutting

the strings of the braciole. Like Holly
to the cat. I lay flat on my back.
Growing lean from eating his

words. I've cleaned up
serving hors d'oeuvres.

So many things happened
So many years ago.
You hitch-hiked to have tea with Mammy;
But not me.

You scaled the Mount to succeed;
Without me.

We slid the Fiat into a Rambler,
Before your big night.
The front got bent out of shape,
But we still went,
Drinking whiskey from the bottle.
Nothing stopped us. We couldn't bother.

We stayed at Sean's,
Or various friends,
At Inns, or canvas tents;
All were means to our ends.

It was fifty years ago...
Half a century of years;
Decades of joyous laughter,
With many unanswered tears.

Why has everyone now built a fence around their heart? Do they know who is not welcome there?

Purple shades of sky
blinding eyes of starlike sunrise
Over mountain highs
and valley lows you shine.
Giving hope to every corner of the day.



Shell ✨🐚

Desperation sensàtion
Panic as I wake
Help me take it slow
Marguerite Porete no fake
Chicago in the snow
Lady of the Lake
Edgar Allen Poe
Ravens make me quake

             Richmond.