A mind to eye in passive fast
Watch the lines of piers
In green sepia
Bobbing in the late bayou
Like a patience to deliver
I utter only into avoid despair
Expression other an abyss
Wise Bohemian youth
As the hollow theory of homes
Had not yet come to fore
Atone their stands to distant
Shores’ ambrosia blind to nurturing
A pool of wax
Dreaming from red lips
Hostage to the swelling newly born
Time is always free
And all that is beauty is so afraid of the light
A passing phrase that captures moments shivering
Stripping shrouded deeper still
Reiterations of our vessels
A foreign land to stand home for
Farther than a place could dream imagine
Diluted in the façade of disappearance
Nuanced intersection
Belief meeting eye to eye
Without the need of conversation
Break the distance
Words to only farther take us struggling back
Equal me
A beautiful world
I would marry the first person
Whom met and did not
Expect a word of explanation
Save humanity
Listening
I stood on the banks of finitude
And watched my life pour in
The season of light comes to an end
And the tango is concluded
Ceremonial soul de la materia
Long dreading the heart no longer guide thee
A headless thoroughbred
The thoughts that roll on by
I have been the old man and the child
The observation and the leap
And it was the laughter of an empty youth
Had met so fresh
Would have been the envy of the company
Had not we danced so stiff
So dark and rationally
A tango on the city of dreams’
Tributaries of the angels’ interpretations
As our guests having lacked sufficient depth
To utter that
Which would have killed
A passion set me free
Imagine all the people would have come
To watch us waltz about Wien
On the many rivers of Venexia
Now love no more
Imagination disappears
Upon the flamingos of wisdom
Viola voilà!
Flamenco à la Trieste
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