A.E. I Owe You

It is a curious night
me sitting by the fire
projecting filaments of gold
on the rusty dusty army-chair.
everything outside is empty
feels like Christmas.
Memory in the glass blushes
most vividly with its rosy red
forever impressed like a
Hand moves for the last pinch
of tobacco in the gown, first
caressing the linear pattern of
the soft calm silvery lining.

I posit myself and
think like
pazzo pezzo pizzo pozzo puzzo

I am sorry, truly.
I don’t even have a


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s