Mummifiers Two Poem by jerome moore

A winds veil is tangled
into the tops of those trees,
and the ashen clouds roll in then.

The alfalfa receives white powderstep makeup,
while gymnasts hang there tights on swolen branchs.
and Crooners hide in bunches behind the maidens lilly white reps
their Trumpets burried nose over tail wailing frenetic-like bop.

The mummifires and the widow;
touching the soil were the jackle once hid,
fingering the sea where the ship once lay
tongue and cheek sailors whisper in purity, rings of blood diamond
off love lost horizons and bitter clandestined nights.
The plague of being this.
Lost at dark in the growling infinity.