this is for the Dreamers, Lovers, and Surgeons

for the Hopeless Stargazer who immortalized his Subject with one hundred and eight sets of fourteen lines in iambic pentameter

for ***** tight clad teenage boys who envied frisky fleas, struggling to make holy ungodly passions with cheap arguments and metaphysical pick up lines

for Disillusioned City Dwellers, who, wandering lonely as clouds, stopped to quietly reflect upon wind-beaten moss-covered crags, and heard God’s whisper thunder from petals and blades of grass

this is for the Dreamers, Lovers, and Surgeons

for Bespectacled Slave Drivers who submersed idle minds in anthologies,  forcing them to **** neon yellow on dreams deferred and rivers;  slicing and dicing Grecian urns with red ball point pens; bruising and battering, in blue ball point, roads not taken; scalding supermarkets in California with pyroclastic flows of graphite  

for those pushing to tear apart lines and letters, reconstructing ,deconstructing, agonizing, imaginizing, bullshitting, and brooding on to crisp white sheets in times new roman twelve point font

for the Monsters and Lollipops that exist in the millimeters between a skull and a brain

this is for the Dreamers, Lovers, and Surgeons slumbering beneath Restless Leaves Under the Moon