Lorca’s Gone AWOL
Published in
1 min readJan 13, 2018
Green how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches… FGL
Songs of summer, blooms and blossoms.
Oh, Lorca, sing of fleshy pears and spring,
voluptuous pomegranates and fecund earth,
as anvils of ice assail the bleak world
and hope finds no redemptive dawn.
The icy rain corrodes this morning.
Lush, Latin loveliness washes away
and southern desire has turned polar.
Lorca, where are your plums and amor,
the Spanish walks and warm, willing thighs
on this messy morning of rain and pain,
when angry northern clouds fill the raging sky,
and the soul would rather stay in bed or die.
Death, vicious death, leave a green branch for love.
If you like this piece, and can afford it, please consider donating.
A penny for the old Guy…
