Dec 2020
December 17th - 22nd, 2020
I.
At an Old Park Bench, She Let Herself Drop,
Seagulls Soared as they Travelled at Her Stop
Below her Feet, She Saw them Land, and Stare at her Brown Paper Bag
But the Aves Brought her No Blooming Smile, No Joys of Generosity
To Her, their Eyes were Stationary & Sterile, Like Glass Models, Just Beaks on a Hunt
There was No Way for them to Relate
II.
Above Her Lumpy Seat, Nirvana was Seen in the Sky
An Emersion Filled with the Growth of Amethysts, Sparkles of Cider, and Deep Ocean Water,
To Her, All that Energy Didn’t Matter, its Beauty Bore her No Sightseeing Delight,
The Composite in the Clouds Held Empty Meaning
She was Blind to a Bright Blue Day, a Heavenly Rain, or a Pinprick of Snow,
With Her, the Day’s Dissolve Only Expressed Violence, Sewn Within its Violet Hues
III.
She Slid her Hand into the Old Paper Bag
The One the Seagulls Eyed,
Yet a Loaf of Bread Did Not Appear
The Bottle Wasn’t Meant to be Shared,
Like an Assassin’s Dagger, She Quickly Swiped the Wine Free
She Gave a Sharp Glance, Made Sure No One was Near
Then She Lifted the High Shoulder’s Spout to Her Lips
Its Meeting was Her Most-Desired Mix
IV.
Her Savored Sips Soon Became Gulps
The Burn was Indulging as it Slid Down her Throat
And She Turned a Blind Eye to its Dry Ice Effect
A Cold and Sterile Connection, Leaving Scorching Flames in its Track,
For Her, Merlot had Once Been a Beautiful Word, Like a Poem, or a French Verse,
Now She Thought of Coins Circling in her Purse
Protean Drupelets, Floral Notes, Lost Within the Nameless Tonic
V.
Swaying Away, the Birds Gave Her their Backs,
Without a Baguette at Arm’s Length, they Saw No Reason to Stay
Waving their Wings of Flight – they Took Off into the Impending Night
The Seagulls Soared Unbound – Toward the Painting of Heaven,
Left Alone on the Tattered Bench
She Tried to Sit Up, but Found Herself Slump,
Her Precious Liter of Red, Still Clutched in Her Hand
The Roots of Artificial Salvation,
She Took in a Breath, and Sighed in her Suffering
And Again, Drank from her Grapes of Poison
The Source of Her Love, & Her Agony
I.
At an Old Park Bench, She Let Herself Drop,
Seagulls Soared as they Travelled at Her Stop
Below her Feet, She Saw them Land, and Stare at her Brown Paper Bag
But the Aves Brought her No Blooming Smile, No Joys of Generosity
To Her, their Eyes were Stationary & Sterile, Like Glass Models, Just Beaks on a Hunt
There was No Way for them to Relate
II.
Above Her Lumpy Seat, Nirvana was Seen in the Sky
An Emersion Filled with the Growth of Amethysts, Sparkles of Cider, and Deep Ocean Water,
To Her, All that Energy Didn’t Matter, its Beauty Bore her No Sightseeing Delight,
The Composite in the Clouds Held Empty Meaning
She was Blind to a Bright Blue Day, a Heavenly Rain, or a Pinprick of Snow,
With Her, the Day’s Dissolve Only Expressed Violence, Sewn Within its Violet Hues
III.
She Slid her Hand into the Old Paper Bag
The One the Seagulls Eyed,
Yet a Loaf of Bread Did Not Appear
The Bottle Wasn’t Meant to be Shared,
Like an Assassin’s Dagger, She Quickly Swiped the Wine Free
She Gave a Sharp Glance, Made Sure No One was Near
Then She Lifted the High Shoulder’s Spout to Her Lips
Its Meeting was Her Most-Desired Mix
IV.
Her Savored Sips Soon Became Gulps
The Burn was Indulging as it Slid Down her Throat
And She Turned a Blind Eye to its Dry Ice Effect
A Cold and Sterile Connection, Leaving Scorching Flames in its Track,
For Her, Merlot had Once Been a Beautiful Word, Like a Poem, or a French Verse,
Now She Thought of Coins Circling in her Purse
Protean Drupelets, Floral Notes, Lost Within the Nameless Tonic
V.
Swaying Away, the Birds Gave Her their Backs,
Without a Baguette at Arm’s Length, they Saw No Reason to Stay
Waving their Wings of Flight – they Took Off into the Impending Night
The Seagulls Soared Unbound – Toward the Painting of Heaven,
Left Alone on the Tattered Bench
She Tried to Sit Up, but Found Herself Slump,
Her Precious Liter of Red, Still Clutched in Her Hand
The Roots of Artificial Salvation,
She Took in a Breath, and Sighed in her Suffering
And Again, Drank from her Grapes of Poison
The Source of Her Love, & Her Agony
