Incandescent virtues , yet I'm a drought within .
I read tealeaves in mouldy cups of our tainted futures.
Our wicks that never saw the light, even though burnt out.
Untenable sight that we drank deeply on, but still thirsted for.

capricious
arabesque
undulate
clientele
juxtaposition
visceral
il­luminati
illustrious
canticle
piecewise
chantry
tealeaves
evenson­g
quixotic

4am sunday morning they broke into song
unable to contain their smiles
they cast aside the spent wine
and took their ribald song to the streets
with a fanfare of sound and light
like jesters of old
they painted smiles on the frowning old men
and placed rainbows over the bridges between
the carpets of the mighty and the halls of fable

by 5am they had made it all
the way in to the center of town
where a roadblock of uniforms thought to make sense
out of tealeaves and mint cookies
as the jesters just dance around their confusions
between their orders and
what the truth of the heart tells em is the song
and then we see the ugly show a pretty eye to the cause
as it marches in through the double dawn
one dawn for the sun
the other for the hearts of the lonely
and a secret one for me and her
in our lounge chairs by the top of the spike hill
kissing our sweet hearts to eachother

by 10am all but the most die-hard had fallen to dreaming sweetly
neath the juniper trees
while thouse few who clung to awakened hearts
sang softly and sweetly
of summer nights and fresh loves
unearthed from the ashes of the desperate pasts
all things made anew from all the things made old

by sunday evening
we had all danced all the dances
and kissed all the kisses till even the heat of passion couldn't fade
held eachothers hands
and smiled sweetly like memory's saying fare thee well till morrow
i would be crazy if it weren't for your hand in mine
here in the tropical sundown

sunday night so deep
and the only one left dancing is old harold
he's doing the charleston with the moon's echo on the waves of the sea
don't think he's ever been so happy
and as i drift off to sleep
with her in my arms
i know that i don't need to explain to anyone
that we are all jesters looking for a
song to dance to at 4am in the tropics

Tessa III



Two people sitting unidentified in cinema seatings missing
reality. If we touched classical screen will be on, two to 20
minutes long. A private facility at home, what is happening?
A million faces said it before, *** can't change things when
silent. It's not about the hurt or pain of memory humanity,

a gut feeling that won't come out. Your bowl of fruit, act sur-
prised. Turning up the dramatic sound, it won't be a smash hit.
I am trying to forget about your special traits. I got talent, you
see... If I go toward the exit first, our secret will self- destruct.
"Houston, we have a serious problem. Re-entry zero burning."






Tessa IV



It's easy once you see it, yours and mine ideology. I
want kindness from you, from me, when we sleep. Bla-
ming is the gravestone when all method is dead. Our
bed is floating and we can't say why. I am capable of change,
another challenge to meet the talisman. Indifference

to use in this sentence upholds the vision, was it virtue,
loneliness? That is the supporting middle that we have.
Friday morning glory, coming in boxes on the table. For-
tune teller in your tealeaves, what is it saying? When will
I be dead? The level of threat has moved to another level.






Tessa V



Weekend readings, a million heads per second. I do the
writing, and so a few hundreds more. The gurkin inside
your oyster, making intention go blue and green. The sun
is what I call the architect. High shadows when looking be-
hind now. A glorious morning, I can just smell the coffee.

I am looking forward to a good saturday this weekend. Dis-
tance between us is a good thing. This lovelife is homeless,
without memory. Let's grow old more decently, talk when
having breakfast, or just be quiet. You know when they say
'a good life', I don't see it in your eyebrows. Oh, please, don't

smile... Sometimes I wonder why they left you, stunningly
beautiful when you were young. What can I say, my charitable
me is a DNA- thing or the Chuckle Brothers. One more thing,
what is it with this metaphor, when you are young with the sun
wrapped around your waist? I am just happy with my readings.