I stumble down around torn peaks
“Fit the right suit
to trick them all.”
the questions fall
around allure. Poems floated
from the hearth
sparks
out the mouth. I am wound up, bored
we are only strangers on our way
the hotel turned slender to mind
now written out (sloppy)
to music
dark brown wood
gold mirrors
(tight)
The drinking songs from upper stories
drag us to sleep a bend in the basement wall
unexplained
scorched. pulling on clean clothes
I let myself out
walk up
underground
to a far off hill
smoke on top
“The orchestra of the
immense magnified
inner life
is now prodigious.”
the strings sound down
make the surface of a mirror
& hang the head
my forbidden past
Rose & Silk
the wine is young
The brooks still hum
with melted snow