"recoat" poems
a capped lens' burst mode--in
Parisian catacombs.
Beksinski's monolithic chiseling
with the feather of Maat.
airbrushed putrefaction, whose
spray recondenses fog--to harden the
elevation of stripped faces.
medieval hillsides of conflating greenery,
cryptified human stage work to avoid being
burned at the stake.
the rattle tattle of bones banging away on a
silent bell.
ensuring the lip of its upside down cup can recoat
further wanderings--or leave be.
Dec 5, 2023
Dec 5, 2023 at 2:47 AM UTC
underneath the wintry sky,
merciful sight.
will it ever burn that bright again?
sometimes I wonder
if the white landfill
fooled my heart
or if bliss actually lingered around.
guess She covered my eyes
because I recall
he used to gently glide, between the clouds.
no falling pieces, no frowns.
recall it was warm
at sixty under zero by default.
but back in town
with liquified sorrows
and wild flames
he looses control, calls me by names.
wise owl smashed to the ground,
hitting its head like a clown.
it resonates of bitterness and death -
never thought a mirror
would be such a mess.
relucntantly I wait,
lovely snow come recoat the graves -
of 99 cent dreams
and drained bottles of pain.
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 10:52 AM UTC