Peacock summer (yolk & barnyard coffee shop for strawman Sal)

cactus palace, alps figured in stonework train terminal/Dylan hollering (I am the vessel for the ghost of me)

transmuted nostalgia, blank graffiti gaze/the alchemic architecture of skyscrapers replacing skyscrapers (an image made more blinding, the child raised to be dissociative & intolerant. I miss the oaken texture of your voice)

bulbous glass humidity, I am poet/poet build word house/in surrealistic wood/fireplace made of naive rainbow and the bones of a whole universe (Sun paints its terror on the back of my neck while I sit here watching a Supermodel with a 3 thousand dollar paisley pattern olive dress walk outside towards Gastown, her rings are worth more than a boreal dream)

Japanese weddings in Elizabethan gardens/grey Fenrir cloud-beast approaches with its faint dew/kites strewn between the Willow trees/Canyon instrument drum/ponderer creates masks of flowers/she sinks into the soggy earth/her primal home (I value those who are humble and beautifully so)

the more poems I read, the more mosaic my soul becomes like world-tree (roots collecting together, vibrant stems of skeletons & Springtime goliath)

do not fret the newspaper will never stop screaming, your cigarettes will never run dry, the ***** platform will never stop bathing itself in the city,

God, to answer your question
yes I am still godless
& yes I am happy

growing thin in the phantom pull of your vastness

(to essence of Lavender)

the sea its
own travelling
fortress
invulnerable
to time