as I read your letters-
your words...

Should we hold the flame of our tongues-
where words burn holes within our lungs...

born from serenity
a melody...

An equivocal curiosity-
titillates a euphoric sensation...

Listen...
Can you hear...

Such pain and loss, in all such war
I see no god, upon our shore...

Now Alfred, no fooling with Miss Rella
You don’t want to end up like a peasant tree...

I whispered to the wind Of my
hollowed misery...

..at tunnels end, will there be light,
to save us from, this time of plight...

The carnage opened up its flooded gate;
a bloodbath runs from taps and overflows...

How does this work should I give up my job?
and hand in my keys; and my rabbit-foot fob...

floating through an orchestral valley-
the sun glances over the shoulders...