—-“Burial of my gloom”—-


But pray:
I don’t gleam beyond veto
blurred horns of euphemism
thy euphoria has sent
whispers of sad story untold
under my running fateless fleet.

the prayer started by the priest
time winks at me in haste
the flying irony of culture
and he a philosopher
the gravest mediocrity of time.

help me save my owl
she is seeping away
blowing beyond a pauper’s folk
900 years and am still
a replica of a casket appeal

let’s pray to hell
seek her freaking smell
bath her purpled ore
and her aura shall soon
snare me to the tunnel
so deep and obscure.

The Village Thinker © 2014


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