Lost and Confused Thoughts (Poetry)
-Untitled,
Corroborant edentata
a furbished menagerie
Holometabolic insects ease
through translucent spectators
Metal tombstones in every garden
that reveal our secrets
to the men who kneel
in the grass of Sunday.
In the grass of Sunday
is rhythym and melody
escaping from an exhalation of breath
with all of the rest
since released from the
trembling fingers of my memory.
Butterfly garden and the leaves eaten
henceforth,
may they look in
the mirror.
Sea of tombs upon which we dream
His eyes cease to wander,
as his original idea
ceases to exist,
-but within himself-
about other people.