Treasure Island

jerome moore


Peacock


and why shouldn't you be upset with me!
me, a scabrous leper of vitriol?

a tiny speck of blood in the yolk of the world?

our worlds whom grasp for and at each other but adorn slippery fingers

wet from our sadness and bulwark…

a nervous dissention of opinion
a taciturn image of a merry go round pier
half fallen into the grinning abyss
which is open like a closet door in a slumbering child's night
with smells of piss and burnt cedar
The whimsy of ultimo Thule?

all seeing eye
peacock

Submitted: Sunday, August 03, 2014

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