Creeps with them,
sleeps with them;
abstruse in the blank
coat-mossy haze and
fire-lit-cages;
Fire. Tumbling like
bacteria, coats churning
systematically orange.
Vomiting, maybe, a placid
spark for attention-
a crack in the well-groomed
blaze; a stuck, crusted look
flaunts his face like a maze.
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Then wear the gold hat, if that will move her; If you can bounce high, bounce for her too, Till she cry “Lover, gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover, I must have you!” THOMAS PARKE D’INVILLIERS.
Followers
The Scr1be
- Charmaine
- disclaimer:
What was written in the past
can last,
but the feelings that were felt
can melt;
and they dissolve into space
and chase
other places, other times
and rhymes.
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