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Apr 2013
I am Marmeladov
Perched as if I were a Father Clock
A Wasp
A Fly
An ant crawling towards the jar of sugar
Stuck in a tear-drop of Honey
Perched at your window
Dream Catcher from vacation to Mexico
To City Country of bandits
Of hot sun
of desert skin
of guns ****** **** **** *******
Spanish women playing Spanish guitars
only 3 strings
only 5 fingers
only 1 eye
Gazing at Death
Her Depth of field altered by her one orange eye like lit cigarettes in a jail sell after lights out
quiet quartet
spanish folklore
a eulogy written in Violin strings
a graveyard of deceased mad men
we never fond Mozart's body
vanished in the sky like the pupils of a white crow
Anatomy of a violin:
Casted in glass
Molded by the moss stauteing over the side of your house
Sand and mud
Winter and old leather boots worn by a Vagabond searching the trees for proof
Sorrow Sorrow Sorrow
untouched lips of a woman
Wet cigarettes and wine and crooked eyes and a starving belly a Thirsty Mind
A lost canine:سلوقی, Saluki, Persian Greyhound, Royal Dog of Egypt
Sitting in a plastic wool cabin
the Mad artist
drinking molding *****
A lost Breed
The Wise
The Proud drunkards writing hysterically on tenement rooftops of NYC
Rimbaud the Tenth of November 1891
The wonderers with peyote with whiskey with 'Kamel Reds' with Hope and Curiosity
Undress your symbolism
Your Strawberry Eyes that Grow on my walls and feet like Callus'
And like the Charcoal sketches performed By Death
We Age
just as the sky does
just as the Tree you climbed as it rained and you swallowed Lightning and Thunder
Yet the sky was dry of no rain
It is a drought
We pluck the roses eye lashes and
We climb into Brick studios and watch the Ballet dancer
as she shapes her bones into Sad New Orleans Trees
The door is locked
Not by bolt but
By the uncut fingernails and hair of wild vines
So we crawl through the side shingles
San Antonio lizards

Ballet ashes
dancing to the sigh of Beethoven's last sight
before a wisdom of blindness
swept over his brown eyes
She seems to be painted all black
Like the flight of a Crow
Or the color of Plums
I sing with the owls
I lay with the long road of infinity and its sadness
Out of oil
Out of Gasoline
Out of Food
so we lay around
Carving the paint off walls
like Van Gogh

I am hunched over a grave
The pond is frozen over
'Monumento a la Madre'
Vagabond home
The rain casts a shadow
I cannot see past your face

Someone is listening
I seep into the peripheral of night
Write symphonies on stone
Lay with the weeds
digest the light of the moon

And as I follow the Southern Star home
I am
Stopped by
Painted red ***** houses
24/7 Whiskey Churches
So I Lay down the rifle
Written by
Savio  Kansas
   Olivia Mercado, Quentin Briscoe and ---
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