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.