through the streets and column cracks
culture weaves and summer smacks
sacred figures, holy shrine
monastery in grand design

cathedrals, convents, heaven’s stars
god of neptune, god of mars
doge’s palace, alley ways
gondolier on full display

winged lions on pastel breeze
cicada singing from the trees
pillar walk of saint mark's square
basilica in all its flare

crosses shade the carousel
a bridge of sigh that leads to hell
golden stairs on placid ridge
arches of rialto bridge

torcello! murano! grigio!
the countess rides the river poe!
sins of seven, fiery hides
poplars bank the levee side

black plague, attila the ***
eden formed before the sun
paradise above the marsh
high alter, gothic arch

middle age, religious wars
celestial fountains, marble floors
sculpted peacock, catholic faith
all is true the great god saith

FOOL.

SHE'LL MAKE YOU LAUGH.

SHE'LL MAKE YOU CRY.

SHE'LL BURN A HOLE IN YOUR CHEST AND RIP OUT YOUR HEART AND TEAR IT TO SHREDS, SMILING LIKE AN ANGEL THE WHOLE TIME.



JUST LIKE SHE DID TO ME.

YOU LIKE TO BUY CDS / YOU LIKE TO SIT ON YOUR WINDOW SILL AND SMOKE **** AS YOU LISTEN TO 80S MUSIC AND PONDER THE MYSTERIES OF THE UNIVERSE / "LISTEN, BABY. LISTEN TO THAT." / YOU LISTEN TO EVERY SONG / EXCEPT NUMBER THREE / "IT'S A FILLER TRACK, BABY. IT'S THE ONE THAT NEVER MAKES THE PLAYLIST. IT'S THE ONE THAT'S ALWAYS SKIPPED." / YOU LAUGH AND KISS MY FOREHEAD

BUT BABY, I'M YOUR TRACK NUMBER THREE.

every single thing we say is just a combination of twenty-six letters
twenty-six letters and punc tu a tion
but there is no combination of twenty-six letters
no combination of twenty-six letters and punc tu a tion
that could ever en cap su late what i feel for you

1764

The saddest noise, the sweetest noise,
  The maddest noise that grows,—
The birds, they make it in the spring,
  At night’s delicious close.

Between the March and April line—
  That magical frontier
Beyond which summer hesitates,
  Almost too heavenly near.

It makes us think of all the dead
  That sauntered with us here,
By separation’s sorcery
  Made cruelly more dear.

It makes us think of what we had,
  And what we now deplore.
We almost wish those siren throats
  Would go and sing no more.

An ear can break a human heart
  As quickly as a spear,
We wish the ear had not a heart
  So dangerously near.