Paper Angel’s
“Ask him about the cemeteries, Dean!”
“The Aegean is up for grabs, which part do our allies want?”
Unpaved bridges throwing stones — crossing, one step forward ten steps back
Four seasoned crossroads — caught nebulous riddles on the windward sea
WAR, WAR, WAR — , it requests a name change —
D-i-p-l-o-m-a-t-i-c I-m-m-u-n-i-t-y!
The price for the purchase of my ideas — force! As I claw at the heavens, a
soot smeared mirror of past glories refurbished to fit, I wash my sudsy clouds
in the diluted water troughs of diglossia, mitigating the ice in my veins to
melt your frozen heart, a handful of air, to breathe, slips through my
clenched fist—
I will not surrender to Summer? September heartens the edge of my
pain, almost here — never left,
Paper Angel’s with feathered signatures, singe there wings in the ashes of my
unseasoned soul, “And their darkness lights the night”
The morning bright-eyed, if you listen well, climbs the grapevine, “Rumour
