From a Hermit to a Mermaid

Enter stage left
find a new color palette
the bass has been cleft
not bereft now, but seeking
verdigris horizons;
the time’s never right.
Rainy season in Kentucky bourbon jungles,
flash photography yields
to clockwork kaleidoscopes
bending the velvet breeze,
on my knees before your altar
it swelters too sweet to stop burning
your cigarette timeline.
Christ, if there is or was or would,
what I wouldn’t do to bring you good;
unravel headstone indigo
free fly the chains of flesh on soul,
doubt nothing
and within your arms
let go.


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