Psyche?

Why the laxed moons
Draiping caskets of Eden?

In lent ash
   A distant land
     Below embers tumble
Oh erie
   I resisted
     And little is the quelched canvas
  Bereaved and tossing in stay
     Russian tongues split and boiled

Canary wings of warming crescent
     Hazel tree bark
    Greying sounds of silver
          End blue wonder
  Collapse in Forrested hill
     Wilded flower
Cambering flights
   Is nestled boat not yet the shores under


I just submitted psyche to the New Yorker

Thank you everyone

I have no forms to find
The desk and business
I've no mind to finish
And in the door I'm forgotten

graciously allowed sorrows
yet celebrants courtesy
weakly glamouring the games
self salved, impervious glints
useless toil and harmonies
filling the songless
detesting hateful
least as i swallow, shine sour towards
my lips

i am sober many years, coffee and poetry

is there any art requests? i speak irish,  raised that way

see how thats missing from america?  everyone is unable to know how to fix the homeless homekey crisis

justice being blind and poverty being beyond a shoe being shared

and italian girl and an irish boy get along
her family, law enforcement and former mafia convictions

we live away from the persecuted homeless who subside without progressive drug policy, thats a violation of civil rights
those are bodies being assaulted

martin luther king jr got shot for doing what we are

somewhere i belong is defining civil rights violations with irish poetry.

hopefully your wells are an act of kindess a day to, thats basic police work without a badge in a civilized european town.