This is not the novel gait of an insomniac,
Pupils sealed, a promise of a promiseless
Tomorrow, lips pressed down with downy kisses.
We have stumbled over minutes of a minute of amour
An afternoon of hazelnuts and coffee and velour
In bathrobes lilac, pink, and black, and then azure.
A verse was born out of a dactyl,
And I was translating the Latin,
And he had said that Zeus had had his way.
All along you wished it, internally, out loud,
To roam the corridors—a battalion of ten or thirteen
Battered floors, identically composed, an outlier amongst
Those passions are but steady and upright.
Sanguine laughter flees towards the pitfalls of tomorrow.
Fingering a discordant voice that cannot but
You were imbibed with parsimony
In an amphitheatre redolent of coarse perfumes.
Perfunctory ambitions soaring worthless
To think I thought this thing a thing to last
An engagement in a petty fling no more
Entities flung far and wide within some folly foolery
To think I thought this thing a thing to last
An engagement in a petty fling no more
Entities flung far and wide within some folly foolery
How can the pithy noble face anointed thus
Be subject unto deep and weary presages—
Some blind compassion, another rude forsaking,
Vindications wild,
A melody she saw bursting through the trees,
Verdant sonnets of a springtime’s cheap caress.
While you had been sitting in the garden
I observed
A model of self-deprecation
Is it an angry’s minor key …
Pent-up balances and sudden trysts,
Combustion, playing down the hall,
Never another day another month another year.
Constant in beginning ending capsule of profanity,
Promiscuous the way you sound, pernicious gait,
She always used to love the outpour of hydrangeas in the spring.
Lucille — she’s just another name, desire apprehended as the spark —
Another chaste beginning falls into a fluke.
she sets the scene diagonally,
flits across the stage,
encoded words of solepsy
at the centre a black hole
stars twinkling apassionately
a muddle of a creek of words
He simply thought that it would be more meaningful to think a certain way,
To challenge thoughts, rebellions, repercussions, his reactionary days,
A world quite unlike another where monogamy falls dead, heaping perils,
In controversial places pull apart my soul
sobriety
In elevated spaces tango through the hole
tripping over sandals in the doorway
of the type your grandfather would wear in the peaceful days post-war
she is stricken by the walls
In the morning she descends the steps, azure bowtie in her hair
Swinging wildly in the early summer’s wind, a collection of curled chestnut locks,
Lashes batting as she spots my figure lean across the platform, waiting there