Mon Vert

  the difference is that when nights fall As every coin does in a wishing well There is a silent drop  That happens mid-flight a small gap in the air Where all the unfulfilled Wishes go As their shadows meet The big lapse in their judgement.

 In a jazz The bell rang for us to get out the room In a guzzle of steps  You could think we were Dancing! One and two Four and eight Suddenly all the ladies Are in their red dresses scarlet kisses Ready to steal  Hearts  Or rather The pink pig at the corner  Of a bin Its Huston Street Says the guy  With the trumpet buzzo-zipee- Dipee-JAX Suddenly it stops And this woman  With the sultry eyes comes down from marble steps In her faux-pur coat And glittering gown  As smoke comes from her soles Woah woman She says I gotta ask you Can I borrow this pen of yours? I need it for my performance I'm up next And  As I drunk down to the roses that tinted the floors their nude In this oak borne establishment That buzzed my stupor away The strings from that goddamn Cello Snuck in To steal my pupils I said I can't lady I can't write." As her curls waved down  To her lashes And the ooze of lethargy  Must've weighed down the gravity  In that r...

You wouldn't understand It Because Often than not My heart pounds loudly against my chest  There is sickness all around And I only could do much As walk And talk And laugh idly as the day goes into a trance silence is no longer.

The many variations that we may never know Where this goes is unclearly stated But whatever it is its delicate manner of speaking it promises a place.

  What is there to understand  look at the tides the coast Everything is right in vague.

  All these pointed narrows Seem to find me all round In my flight in the naught of it all the gushing wind begins to pace I am in the whirlpool To be taken away As I prepare to drift Into the gray abyss there is a break in the air A colorway parts  into a mist To an oblique.

  Confusing  Just as it is not as we swell With the waters that make of us there is a small  corner  that refuses to sink into the depths a pocket where everything is  as dreamt Whole The truth is I believe sometimes but  I'd rather not.

The hard lesson Is that  Even the rare things go  Astray unsuspectingly It is misunderstood Even there is mediocrity  in things we don't notice.