Go with feeling,
away from words-
the literate,
sophisticated scene.
Corpus opus-
uglier on paper,
Paris wouldn’t know.
Cataclysmic reaction
flicking
blood-red sap
onto parchment paper
made from decaying evergreen-
the future lies in the forest.
The undeniability of ancient truth,
with new words and phrases
carried on the backs of
pretentious youth-
ill going and never arriving,
armed with extensive vocabulary-
scholarly battery.
A poem to offend the senses-
catacombs grow lush with time.
Green, effervescent plant life
covers bone and tar
with branches of metaphor.
The marrow wilts but spirits clone and forget-
repeat again, tales and tragedies,
what it means to take on human life.
Bereavement cycle: weep, mourn, repeat.
Pinwheel of lament-
what is art but a carousel
of fading feelings, faces, days?
Memories given a forever home,
pain never dies.