How Does a Single Dewdrop Encapsulate Two Distinct Souls?

1. Paradisiacal Entity
I. She was a timid marionette abrading a noose of pitiful dahlias; reins of morose comets to a windowless, hapless cloud the wind drew over.

II. He: a gondolier, mouth impounding frayed light, garnets and barcarolles, his voice: a foamy estuary traversing eons of love, that territory of half-opened marigolds and half closed curtains

III. Eve sauntered with matted streams of cascading laughter, basilisks; bound to the white tributary; inquired whether “water soothes the soul or satiates parched lips?” – rebuffed at the sacrosanct threshold where iridescence danced her clockwork rounds, with soupy, tempest-hewed eyes and a peony beret

IV. Nonchalant nave, Casanova a somnambulist in sleeplessness’s erratic warren: porticos of follies, blood that woke on the covert doorsill of mistletoe, crosses of unabridged, unbridled women, March’s gaze that rose from the interminable sands

V. Days sank in the waters of time, errant mountains of sorrows and their blue lurching, sad vagabonds traversed the archipelago of Fortune, O infinitesimal magnolia submerged by foam and cherubs

VI. In a brusque tenderness, dreams were cast of spume in twilight’s carillons, the life of the road reunited with fire and petrol, froth with snow; a resounding hymn of wells permeated the horizon’s veil, and a child scrutinized her ashen face, brows of seabirds, pitiful language of scars enacted by clandestine waves and the moon’s brumal chicanery

VII. Vis-à-vis Gabriel’s auriferous pinions, Eve was Heaven’s miscarriage, the ingénue descending as a teacup seduced by a lax floor, an entity of Ward’s Island, the earth but a canapé of stars

VIII. From the barge of pine onto the isle of fortuity the earth’s roots germinated suddenly from scald, magma into his saltpeter-hewn eyes, ardent allies of the dike’s diurnal anthem, brothers of the mine’s quartz thumbs, stifling iron-soul and furtive lovers of the sunflower’s shadowy net cast upon the brambles of childhood

IX. God’s reflection in nature, beauty; His shadow in somber cities, indulgence

X. How did the honey-drop in its golden-hued suit of light, bitter crown of névé conquer their hearts?

XI. The boatman’s dream careening through haze, alighted on her smokestacks, a gallant in a garland of coalescing silver

XII. Sulphurous sentences absconded the suffocating stable as boisterous, azure colts cantering within the sky’s pasture; the stars were but melancholy, soulless basalt slates, the comet of a still-dewy tulip, bluebells’ carillons of a meteor throb

XIII. Her mouth held the enigmas of the sky. She was the queen of his bones whom the streets would don their vermillion sundresses, for those treading crystal-roots, streetlamps that gifted their crowns of inebriating, chanting stars onto that cold-silver hair, fecund warehouses that heaped necklaces of herbariums, moon-tears, parchments of nude kisses, onto her topaz bosom; keeper of his voice undulating as a frond, intoxicated on the moon’s void, ineffable neon-lights

XIV. Vault of a curt love where only a fragmented sconce remained; nascent stars tangled in sullen rooftops; she propagated fire through the quiescent hamlet, embers became flame’s disciples and an ashen mermaid yearning on spring enfolded as a beach chair

2. To Burgeon
I. School of fish, an abecedary of twilights, yardstick of the horizon, abacuses of cerulean shells; brine assailed the roundabout of her sole

II. Neon-canals of dim-lit smiles, insurmountable locks of comet-wheeled hearts,
banks of a silhouette solidified on fury’s coast, spray of eyes that broke loose on dandelion stamens

III. Willows of caresses eschewing autumn’s morgue of unrequited love, bedrock glinting as fading topaz; four-eyed, alabaster gondola

IV. Dream that takes form in the lyre and a clown, uprooted, with a parasol; incessant shadow of a guitar promulgating the tear

V. They were tallows: wicks entwined, encapsulated by the auriferous horizon, irradiated by heaven’s conflagration of unyielding orange-laughter

VI. Anything forged must be de-forged, loved, de-loved, purified, de-purified; stubborn love that stammers and stammers and stammers; forges a crystal and kneads a brioche for Cherubs

VII. The ash becomes diamond becomes star becomes ash; those blue eyes dropped their gazes, undressed, coalesced but a dewdrop on the glass-paneled sky

VIII. Love is a jar laced with oblivion, rimmed with vitality, shimmer of rage; only she is born and dead of anonymity

IX. Ariane was a clutch of sprigs over his thorny heart

3. Intoxication
I. The moon and her forlorn breast of Camembert under a cardigan of snow, the despondent stars bled globules of dandelion-wine

II. Ophelia was an amber-carafe at the hands of an inebriate; perhaps, only the drunkard comprehends the blithe in drunkenness, the road the only ally of solitude

III. How does a single dewdrop encapsulate two distinct souls?

IV. Ava was an amanuensis with a ballpoint of roses adorning sepulchers for there to be no more dissensions between bones or despondencies for the cupola, for nostalgia to dance in instantaneous reveries of petals

V. For lovers to be entwined by ash’s roots and aroused by the impalpable aroma of youth, vernal strolls and verdant stupors

VI. She became an Isadora drunken on the long bout of the road; a kerchief of lachrymose butterflies and sullen clouds

VII. A sprig flitting the sky of tears toward the mother-of-pearl sun with her thorax of water and pendant of bluebells

VIII. Ariadne and the mill of silk forging Longinus’ spear, manna; the chaff, shucks are the foam of dreams grown hazy by dawn.

IX. Absalom was an acolyte of neon of a procession of stars disentangling themselves from their emery-jackets toward a vigil of air-flowers

X. Pacing to a still comet that strayed onto the door-less Olympus Mons, hearth of masturbating she-wolfs, palisade of livid bayonets, depression laden with jaded garlands of laurels, kisses

XI. Death to all, even mourners, Dionysus in his antechamber of pallid coins, the violet between lips becoming a stream of dandelion-wine, the Naiad with her glass slippers, cork fedora, corkscrew for a heart

XII. The net of darkness engulfed the pitiful world; he wanted to do to her what night does with taciturn stars!

XIII. He did to himself what winter does to bellicose trees, time to vacant halfway houses of memories!

XIV. Wine-stained lianas, blood-hewn carnations, air-flowers

4. Juxtaposition
I. He with palms that gesticulated as sparrows atop a cot of quarterlies, face of ethereal ash never to coexist in the spheres of coins: gaping mouths of Monarchs, forlorn loon-wings, moose antlers as if towers of Babel!

II. Dealt spades, clubs; reeling on the twisted alleys of gratification, infiltrating chapels of love: crosses of unbridled women with vermillion tunics, mausoleums of golden sip in taciturn flasks

III. She was the chaff becoming a comet becoming a tear becoming a pear

IV. Passionless women of volcanoes and geysers, snow and lilies, ash and brine; horizon’s easel of woebegone kisses moored to the teary-eyed Heavens; mesh of desires anchored to virtuous, reminiscing effigies dawn forged of dew-bolts

V. Lolita adhered to the road, dream to time, love to darkness, smoke to eyes, heart to a home of a star of death of a life of the road succumbing to hope’s procession of chimes; no more dissensions of bells and Sundays or the bandit in his jacket of underfoot leaves and autumn’s vault of oblivion’s wine

VI. Time undresses love but fantasy saturates her; Divine inert egregious mountains gagged the shadowy boat of lips

5. Introspection
I. Fishmonger of kisses, spurns, Lamplighter of dreams, concreteness, Landscapist of eyes, shade

II. Litigator of the amber-bottle and sidewalk’s brawl
Auspicious litigator of yesterday’s euthanasia to envelop morrow
Zealot of Bethlehem’s naves, the world in a blazer of the horizon and a bow tie of stars
Ardent zealot of the train of dreams leaving the inebriated coastline
Reaper of midnight waves
Usurped reaper of the earth’s buzzer to instantaneous green eyes, solitary violet of the pubis, bosom of gelid silver
Salesman of destinies embalmed in obscurities, twist-tie of hope’s path, pericarp of nostalgic voices; Capsules to abscond water’s wing imbuing its mundane clovers into the soul of clay; a clutch of ivory anguishes

III. The sun’s clod of blood on the sea’s mantle of foam in the net of darkness upon the fish of hope traversing the sky of ardent eyes

IV. I am a shadow in the pure heart of a spring.
I am a shadow in the heart of spring.
I am a shadow of spring.
I am a shadow.
I shadow (her on the tightrope of headstones).
I, (her).


Leave a Reply

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

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

Facebook photo

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

Connecting to %s